The Untold Adventures of Darkwing Duck
by Flyvarna
Summary: A set of short stories I've been working on. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I did not make this cartoon, or these characters. They're owned by Disney. I'm just doing a bunch of short stories with them...Although it would be nice if Disney brought this great old show back.

The Untold Adventures of Darkwing Duck

_"So, who was this guy again?" The famous book editor wondered out loud. "All my secretary said was that he was a TV star, but I don't recall the name."_

_His companion, the lawyer, glanced at him over his shoulder, as they got into the limo. "That's probably because you're not big on TV shows...especially old cartoons. Let's see...There was this old Disney cartoon in the early nineties called 'Darkwing Duck.' It was a spoof on the old superhero shows, where all the people in that world were talking, anthropomorphic, animals. It was pretty popular, back in the day..."_

_"Wait a second, he's a cartoon character?! I thought the name sounded strange, but...You're acting like he's real!"_

_"It's a bit of a weird story," the lawyer remarked. "What happened was the show's writers were thinking of doing a story where Darkwing Duck appeared in the real world...While they were discussing how the episode should go, Bam! He appeared, just like that. And what was even freakier, his story of coming to our world was the same as what the writers were planning. He eventually got back to his home world, of course. That bit went the way the writers had planned it, but Disney covered the whole incident up. They totally changed most of the episode, so that nobody would get suspicious...but they said nothing about his actual visit."_

_The editor's jaw dropped. He couldn't think of anything to say, but his imagination suddenly went wild with the implications of that. _

_"H-Have there been any other incidents like that one? And was it just Darkwing Duck, or could we bring any character from any series?"_

_"There have been one or two incidents, but they were only characters from that show...Although it would be pretty darn neat to have the original Optimus Prime hanging around. Anyways, we discovered that we could bring Darkwing Duck into our world by writing a plot about it in the television show, but we could never keep him here. After the plot got resolved, he'd go back to his world. It's kinda like that old "Quantum Leap" show. And since it's a cartoon show, no time ever seemed to pass for them over there. Ah, here we _

_are."_

_The limo pulled up to a very tall building and a chauffeur pulled the door open for the two men to exit. They moved through the lobby and entered the nearest elevator. Once inside, the conversation resumed._

_"The Disney people didn't bring him here that often, because they were afraid of disrupting things too much. About three years after the show first aired, Disney stopped making new episodes, because they felt that those cartoons weregetting too old."_

_"Oh." The editor said. "Out of curiousity, what's this...uh...Episode's plot?"_

_"He's trying to write the book while all kinds of things go wrong. Don't worry, the episode ends with him getting the book safely done."_

_Something occured to the editor. "So, why bring him back now? Couldn't you have done this when the show was still running?"_

_"The fanbase wasn't big enough for the Disney people, but now things have changed. The whole obsession with Retro things these days, and the fact that the kids that grew up on the show grew up...And some of them became sucessful businessmen that decided that the stuff Disney's running today just doesn't compare to the good old days, and requested us to do this...You have to admit, they do kinda have a point. Most of Disney's stuff these days is catered towards girls, like that Cyrus girl's show. They need something more action-y for boys that will please the older fans, too. This may be just what they need..."_

_The elevator dinged, and opened. The men walked out and into a fairly good-sized conference room. The editor noticed that there was one other person in the room, then he stopped and stared. The guy was a cartoon character, literally. Just like the characters from that old "Roger Rabbit" movie, but this was real! Really there, sitting in one of the chairs, playing some hand-held game system. The editor couldn't recognize the system, it probablycame from the cartoon world. Then the duck looked up, laughed awkwardly, and stowed the video game into his cape somewhere._

_"Wha...Oh, Heh heh...Greetings, human people."_

_"Hello, mister Duck." The lawyer said. "How're you doing? I'm Marvin Suggs, and this is my associate, Lewis Kazagger. He's a big book editor in this world."_

_"Charmed, I'm sure." The Duck said, as he rose to shake their hands, which felt truly weird for the editor. The Duck's hands were covered in feathers...It was kind of like shaking hands with a parakeet._

_"I haven't been here for a while," the Duck continued. "Not since they cancelled my show. What's the occasion?"_

_"Well, you might not know it, but it's been over ten years since your show, and the kids that grew up watching your show...Well, grew up. Some of them became very rich, and are now trying to bring your show back."_

_"What?!" The Duck sputtered. "They are? If there's anything I can do to help, name it. Especially if it involves a profit for me...Unlike last time."_

_"The one that's offering all the money wants a book on your first days as Darkwing, kinda like the way they rebooted the Batman and James Bond franchises. Y'know, answer all the unanswered questions like where did the name come from? Or, how you first got involved with SHUSH. He wants the book from the Duck's beak, so to speak."_

_"Very funny," the Duck growled._

_"Sorry, I couldn't resist. Anyways, like I said, these are very big fans, and have seen every episode, and they know that you have a tendency to...Exaggerate some of your heroics..."_

_"I never exaggerate."_

_There was an awkward pause._

_"...Okay, maybe once or twice, but it's just for the drama."_

_"I hate to tell you this, mister Duck, but your series isn't a drama, it's a comedy-action cartoon. So, here's the deal. we want you to write the book, and we want you to be honest in it. We'll pay you ten thousand up front. When you're done writing, we'll take it to the guys that wrote your series and run it by them. If they approve, you get an extra twenty thousand, plus the royalties from the book sales, but if they don't approve then we scrap your writing and hire a ghostwriter."_

_The Duck winced. "Ouch. So, I really have to stick to my story? But there are parts where it gets...humiliating, and even boring."_

_"We want the straight truth. So far, it's got the working title of 'The Really, Really, honest-to-goodness true origins of Darkwing Duck.' Look at it this way, even if you don't make it past the writers, you can always post it on one of those fanfiction sites on the internet. That'll be some good publicity for you."_

_The room was quiet for a moment or two, then the Duck spoke up again._

_"So, all I have to do is write it? No deadlines, no 'Or elses'?" _

_"All you have to do is write it. There's no deadline, but the sooner the book is done, the sooner you'll get paid, and the sooner your series will havea chance to come back."_

_"Okay, it's a deal," the Duck said. _

* * *

Part 1: The Really, Really, honest-to-goodness true origins of Darkwing Duck

Greetings, loyal fans! (I hope that didn't sound too pretentious.)

What you're now holding is a chronicle of the earliest days of yours truly, Darkwing Duck! It's such a shame that this book will only be distributed in the human world, not my own, but then there are some secrets that this caped crusader must keep from the good citizens of St. Canard, namely my secret identity as Drake Mallard.

I'm sure that the astute folks that actually watched my show know that there was supposedly an episode where my daughter and I traveled back in time and met my past self...Well, suffice it to say, I didn't remember that incident too well until I went back in time. I believe it was something to do with a breakout of flamingo pox a few days afterwards...That I remember all too well. Trust me, you don't want to hear about it.

Anyways, the actual origin of my heroic alter ego had actually already been shown in the TV show, one of the later episodes or so I'm told. But what you probably don't know is that, at the time, I thought it was a once-only thing. My fifteen minutes in the spotlight, as it were. I didn't even once think that the heroic thing could become my whole career. Boy, was I wrong!

So, the actual origin of my career as resident superhero started some six months after the incident at my prom, when I was about eighteen and a half. By then, I had just started going to college. Ahh, yes, good old Follicle University. I was unpacking some of the stuff I had brought from home, and I found out that my loving family, possibly out of nostalgia...and partly to clear out some of the clutter in my old room, had sent me a few of my old issues of the "Super Pig" comic. Wow, that book brought back some

memories. All those days pretending to be a superhero, the times spent attempting to solve cases...Which usually ended up in utter failure...And the one time where I had, for one brief moment, actually been a hero myself...

I was still thinking of those comic books the next day as I left my dorm room and went to my job. Back then, I made enough money to survive by working in my first job at a supermarket, as a bagger. It taught me several skills I still use to this very day. For instance, the fine art of "Juggling too many things without dropping anything," the skill of "Dodging carriages in the parking lot which customers are too lazy to just put back, so they just leave them in the middle of the road, or even worse, just fling them at you..."

And the most horrible, terrifying, endurance test of all...the test of "Enduring too much Christmas Muzak." That one has saved my sanity on several occasions, more specifically, when a certain daughter of mine decides she wants to be a rock star.

But I'm digressing right now. You wanted to know how I got this whole thing started, here's how.

It was a pleasant enough morning at the Quack-E-Mart. As usual, the place was hopelessly crowded with ceaseless crowds of customers trying to make it home in time for the latest episode of "Empty Nest."

I was at register 9, cramming...Er, I mean ever so delicately placing cans of Cuckoo Cola into someone's carriage when it happened. There was a large display of candy bars not too far from where I was. A felonious and fat felongrabbed one, and started furtively making his way to the exit, without going through the registers first.

"Steal from my store?" I growled under my breath. "Not on my watch!"

And then I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Hold it right there, shoplifter!"

The porky perpetrator decided to make a run for it. He started sprinting for the exit door. Someone had to stop him...It was all an impulse, really. I grabbed the nearest thing to hand, a can of Cuckoo Cola, and hurled it at him. The can caught him right in the small of his back, sending him crashing into the wall next to the door. For one glorious moment, I was elated. I'd done it! The Quack-E-Mart was safe once again.

...And then the laws of Physics, combined with a healthy dose of Murphy's Law, caught up to me. The can of cola suddenly burst, then started rocketing all over the place, spraying everyone with soda. It flew into the "Register 9" sign, bounced off the display of exercising equipment, then finally crashed into the large arrangement of cans of gravy which were stacked over by where I was standing. I had a lovely view of the cans before they all crashed down on me. It took me a few seconds to pull enough cans off me so I could sit up. That's when I noticed that everyone was glaring at me.

"Oops," I said.

"What were you thinking, Mr. Mallard?" My boss demanded.

"What was I thinking?! The guy was shoplifting. If I hadn't stopped him, he'd have gotten away!" I snapped. Of all the things to happen to me...First everyone was acting like it was _my_ fault the can had exploded, and now my Boss calling me into his office...It was not a good day.

"Mr. Mallard, that candy bar cost 60 cents. All those cans you busted cost adollar apiece. You cost us more than that one shoplifter did! Do you even know what the store's procedure for shoplifters is?"

"Yeah, yeah...Let the security people handle it, try and get a good look at the guy, so you'll remember him later, then call the police."

"So, why didn't you do that?"

"Because, unlike the security people, I had a chance to get him _before_ he got out of the store. You guys are always looking for people who take the initiatve, right?"

"There's a fine line between initiative and sheer recklessness, Mr. could've been hurt with that stunt you pulled. This store has no place for people like you. You are fired, Mr. Mallard."

Fired? For stopping the bad guy? Yeah, the Quack-E-Mart was like that. I was really and justifiably upset.

"Yeah? Well_ fine!_ Don't come crawling to me when your shelves have been picked clean because none of you had the guts to stop a shoplifter!" And I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

And it wasn't even Noon, yet.

Follicle University, the college I'd started to attend a month before, was pretty much your average college. It was also the biggest college in the state, and as a result it was very crowded. Crowds of students went to their classes every morning, some of them taking their lives into their own hands by darting in front of cars at the last possible second. This made for a lot of traffic jams. I myself took the bus to work and back every day. Oh, I knew how to drive by then, but since 1. I didn't have a car, and 2. The parking lots were as packed as the classrooms were, I took the bus almost everywhere. As I headed back to my dorm room in one, I couldn't help feeling like a sardine, especially when the bus stopped by the gym and all the big guys got on.

I managed to peel my way off the bus at my stop, only to discover that I'd been flattened by the crowd. Well, that was no big deal. I popped myself back into shape and headed for Gorton Dorm. I walked into the building, intending to take the elevator up to my room, but that's when I saw that some of my fellow students were already on the elevator...And the doors were closing.

"Wait for me! _Hold that elevator!" _I yelled, breaking into a sprint, but it was no use. As the doors closed inches away from my fingers, my so-called "Peers" on the elevator took the time to mock me.

"Bye-bye," "See you, loser," "Aw, so close!" And the doors shut.

Unable to stop myself in time, I careened into the now-closed elevator doors.

"Grr," I growled, as I pulled myself free.

"Aw, that was rude," someone said from behind me.

"You got _that _right," I agreed. Then I saw who it was I was agreeing with.

Milton Thacklethwait, the resident uber-nerd. He and his friends were so geeky, they could recide all the dialogue from every episode of "Star Duck." To them, pie wasn't a delicious food, it was some very long number. They often hung out in the lounge playing board games that lasted nearly a week at a time. They were the kind of people that were nerdy enough that nobody wanted to associate with, least of all me. Well, I'll admit I was a little geeky back in those days, but even at that time, I didn't want to admit it.

"Oh, hi Milton. Listen, I..."

"I know how you feel, Drake. Those people have no respect. Me and my friends are taking a stand against this sort of thing. We're trying to get the administration to make everybody take a mandatory class on respecting your fellow duck."

"That's...Uh..._Wonderful_, Milton. Listen, I really need to move. I need to go get my books for my next class."

Never mind that my next class wasn't for another four hours, I just wanted to get away from Milton. I quickly turned before he could say anything else and made a break for the stairs, before anyone else saw me talking to him.

My dorm room was on the 11th floor. It could've beem worse, Gorton actually had 18 floors. Still, that was 11 floors of stairs. By the time I'd reached my floor, I was litterally crawling.

"Ma-Made it," I gasped. Why did I _always_ have to just miss the elevator? I opened the door to my dorm room, and immediately found a football lodged in my mouth.

"Nice catch, man! Hey, wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

Alphonse "Crash" Auburn, was the "Big thickwit on Campus," as well as starting quarterback for the Follicle U. Contours. AKA Jock Extremo, Ladies' Man, and my roomate. It was a match made where the sun don't shine. We didn't interact much. Crash was usually out dating an endless stream of girlfriends, so I only saw him about once a day. I don't think he even knew my name. In fact, I'm a bit surprised he knew that I worked.

"Nah, I quit. The boss and I didn't get along," I sighed as I spat out the football. "And now I need a new one. Hey, Crash, old buddy, you have any clue where I could get a new job?"

"Well, the basketball coach was just saying he could use a new janitor, maybe you could ask him. I'd help you, but I got a big game coming up, so I need to practice."

"Well, good luck with that, Crash. I'm going to go look up the...Um...Coach."

The Follicle University Basketball coach, or Coach Kazinscki to give him a proper name...Also known as "Coach Kaz" for short, was to be found in the university's big sports' venue, the Mufflers Center. It was out by the edge of campus, over by the track and field fields. The basketball team was famous for having the longest streak of home wins in the country, a feat that everybody attributed to Coach Kaz's unique abilities. Of course, that hadn't really affected me or anything until I needed a way to make money. When I met

Coach Kaz, I begged...Er...I mean, persisently but nicely asked for a job.

"Awright, awright, I'll give you a job," he said as he glared down at me. "You're the new Janitor. Now, will you get off of my leg?! _Yeesh!"_

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank yo..."

"Yeah whatever. Tell those guys practicing over there that they can go now, then pick up the basketballs and put them over in that closet there."

"Sure thing," I said, stifling the urge to whoop with delight. I had a job again! I wouldn't have to ask my parents for money!

The "Guys" were three fellows who looked, to me anyways, like they were walking on stilts. They were, as the phrase goes, "Shooting hoops" at the other end of the gym.

"Hey, you guys," I told them. "Coach says you can go now."

"Oh, we can't go yet," one of them said. "There's still one we haven't played with yet."

And with that, he grabbed me, crunched me into a ball, then threw me through the hoop.

I'm not actually sure how long they spent playing...Uh...Ball with me. The next thing I remember is lying on the gym floor.

"Of all the lousy..." I grumbled, as I pulled myself up. "They have basketballs for this, they don't need to treat _me _like that, too. What was I supposed to be doing? Oh yeah, put the basketballs away."

I sighed as I began searching for the basketballs. So much for an easy job! As I finished the job, I felt my stomach growling. What time was it, anyways? I spared a peek at my watch.

"Four O'Clock?! _I'm late!" _And I hadn't even had time to get my books! I streaked out of the gym and off to Horter Hall for my English lecture.

Do you have any idea how awkward it is to walk in on a lecture after it's started? Yeah, it was that bad. I immediately felt all eyes on me as I tried to sneak to my seat.

"Er...Heh heh...Don't mind me, folks, I'm just a bit late," I said, sitting down.

The professor cleared his throat pointedly. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the deadline for choosing your majors is coming up next month. The majors, as I'm sure you all know, are vitally important, especially after you graduate. I'd recommend that everyone pick a major based on what you want to do with your life."

I rolled my eyes. The truth was that I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life, and I certainly didn't want to be reminded about it constantly. Most likely I was indecisive because all the really cushy jobs, like heir to a big company or something, were already taken.

After that, the lecture proceded as usual. The professor droned about stuff, while I took advantage of the big crowd to...Er...Rest my eyes a bit. Well, it had been a long day, after all.

The next three weeks passed relatively uneventfully. In between classes, I reported in for my new job. The "Guys" on the Basketball team gave me the same charming "Treatment" I'd received on the first day, and once I'd recovered from being dribbled and shot, I would do my job of cleaning the place up.

And then came the break that changed the routine...And my life.

"Awright, you weenies!" Coach Kaz bellowed. "We got that big game against St. Canard U. tomorrow. You're gonna practice like you never practice before. We're using the lucky ball this time!"

For some reason, the basketball players seemed to think this was funny. They all laughed loudly.

"Oh, an inside joke." I said, and went back to polishing the seats. I didn't get it, but then this was me, I couldn't tell the difference between a quarter and a half. I could tell one thing, though. St. Canard University was the college across town, and they were the self-proclaimed rivals to Follicle U. Until I'd started working for Coach Kaz, I hadn't cared who was rivals with who, but now that I was more involved with a sport, I'd been seeing a lot of pro-Follicle, and anti-St. Canard propaganda and stuff. I still didn't care much, but I knew more about it than I had before.

The basketball practice pretty much went on as usual, but there was one thing that caught my eye. Instead of watching the practice like he always did, Coach Kaz brought a small TV over to the little table he used for paperwork. He then pulled an apparatus that looked like a joystick for a video game system out of his coat, and apparently started playing a video game. I got curious and slipped behind the front row seats, getting close enough to see that the "video game" was just a dot on the screen, which Coach Kaz was moving around via the joystick.

"_Geez_, what a boring game," I muttered, and went back to cleaning the seats.

Thanks to the upcoming game, Coach Kaz decided to see his players off to the showers...Right after telling me to stop goofing off and to get back to work. I sighed, and took out the mop to start cleaning the floor.

"Hey, Drake!"

I looked up to see who it was, and flinched. Milton Thacklethwait. It figured.

"Milton?" I asked. "What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to know if you were interested in joining me and my friends tonight for a trivia contest."

That was precisely the last thing I wanted to do. Trivia really isn't my thing, especially nerd trivia. And what was worse, hanging out with those nerds. That would make my coolness factor drop faster than a bullet.

"Sorry, Milt. I can't make it. I have...Uh...Basketball practice."

"Wait, you're on the basketball team, Drake? I thought you were the janitor. No offense, but you don't seem like the basketball type."

"_Sure_, I'm the basketball type," I lied. "In fact, when I'm not the janitor, Coach Kaz uses me as the...Um...Backup-Backup...Er...Backup. Just in case the rest of the team isn't able to make it. Here, I'll show you."

I grabbed the nearest basketball from Coach Kaz's table, and began dribbling it.

"Okay, Drake. Maybe you can join us next week," Milton said as he turned to go.

"Yeah, absolutely, Milt. _Absolutely_" I began. As Milton left, I finished the sentence under my breath. "...Not."

Fortunately for my dignity, Milton was out of sight before things started going wrong for me. The ball I'd been dribbling escaped my hands, bounced off one of the seats, and smacked me directly in the head, sending me sprawling on the floor.

"Oof," I groaned. I picked myself up and looked to see where the ball had gone. It had only rolled a few feet away, but that was when I noticed something was amiss. Namely the ball's completeness.

"What the...I _broke_ it?! But, I didn't dribble it that hard...At least not as hard as they dribbled me...Hold the phone here!"

The ball was literally split in half. As I got closer, I could see some kind of small machine in it.

"Why would a basketball have some weird gizmo inside it? _Wait a minute!_ That so-called 'video game'...Follicle U. hasn't lost a home game in years...And isn't this their alleged 'lucky ball?' Of _course! _ He was using a remote to remotely control the ball! They've been cheating all this time..."

I scooped up the fake "Ball." That was when I heard footsteps heading in my direction.

"_Yikes!" _I very quickly snapped the halves of the ball together, slipped the ball back to the table, then sneaked my way back to my mop and went back to cleaning before Coach Kaz came in.

"_Hiya_, coach!" I said, in an attempt at innocence. It apparently worked, because Coach Kaz grunted a response, and picked up the pernicious plaything before heading off, probably in the direction of his office.

"Now what?" I asked.

The answer still hadn't come to me a day later, after I'd finished my classes, and as I was doing my job of mopping the front hallway of the Mufflers Center in preparation for the big game.

Should I do something to expose the basketball team's apparent cheating? Well, if I charged right in and accused Coach Kaz of cheating, that would probably be the end of my job, if not my education. Something I kind of needed, right now. So, that was out. I could try telling someone who presumably held authority over Coach Kaz, like the cops or the Dean, but how was I to know they weren't in on this? If I told them, I could very well get the same results as if I confronted Coach Kaz directly. Maybe if I did what I'd done that time in high school, disguised myself somehow and took down the cheaters my own way, nobody would recognize me, then I wouldn't have to worry about being fired, and I could get Coach Kaz arrested for cheating...

But, what was I saying? This was _me_ here. Drake the dweeb, the guy who had only done something heroic once, and had gotten lucky. Besides, why should I do anything about all this? I mean, it wasn't like I was actually interested in sports, and this could cost me my job, or worse. I'd have to go get some actual proof of the team's cheating, and I didn't think Coach Kaz would part with that too easily.

Then again, neither Coach Kaz nor the basketball players were all that pleasant to me. If I could pull this off, I wouldn't have to worry about them shooting me again. I would be bringing justice down on their heads like a pile of bricks, making a difference, just like the characters in the comic books I'd used to read, like I'd done that time in high school, and it would feel so good to see the looks on their faces when that justice started with the guy they'd thought was only good for cleaning floors and shooting practice...

The first thing I did was get myself to the mall and buy one of those hand-held tape recorders. Y'know, the kind that records what you say? I thought it would be handy to bring along just in case I needed any evidence besides the fake basketball and the remote control. Besides, it looked cool. The recorder actually cost me most of the week's paycheck, but what the hey? I could always live on ramen noodles and tap water for the rest of the week.

And then I needed a cunning disguise, so that nobody would recognize me. With the game only a couple of hours away, I didn't have time to be get some fancy costume like the last time. Plus, it was the wrong time of year for halloween costumes, so I had to improvise. So, I "Borrowed" one of Crash's baseball caps. The cap, like most of the baseball caps in the university, had the Follicle U. logo printed on it, it was one in a million. Nobody would be able to figure out whose it was. Then, I just grabbed one of my winter coats that I hadn't had time to unpack yet, let alone wear. Nobody from the university would know it. And the final touch, the mask. I took an old sock, cut it in half, then put eyeholes in it, then put it on.

I looked at myself in the mirror...And cringed. I didn't exactly look too dashing, did I? Well, it would do the job. Like I said, I didn't have time to find something better.

The big game was held over in the Mufflers Center, so it was just a matter of getting there without being seen. Fortunately, most of my basketball-loving peers were already at the game, so there was slightly less of a chance of someone seeing me. Just in case, however, I "Borrowed" the hydrangea bush outside of Gorton Dorm to sneak around. Using the bush, I managed to make it up to the Mufflers Center without anyone seeing me. Now, all I had to do was get inside. I couldn't just use the front entrance...I sighed.

"I guess I'm going to have to use a window, or something."

The Mufflers Center didn't have much by way of windows. The only first-story windows were on the front of the building, which meant that I couldn't use them without being seen. The back of the building had some windows for the offices and stuff, but they were all on the second floor and higher. As I sneaked my bush around the back, I attempted to think of a way in that did _not_ involve scaling straight up a brick wall. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a better route, but I could think of a better way. The track and field team practiced in the field next to the Mufflers Center, and they had left some of their equipment nearby. More specifically, the pole vaulting equipment.

So, I stood in front of one open, but dark, window with a pole in my hand and started my first real high-flying stunt...

Which left me a pancaked duck about a foot to the left of the window, because my aim was just a teeny bit off. Well, it was close enough that I could reach the window, and get in. You could even say that I meant to do that.

Now, it was time to find Coach Kaz's office, and get my hands on some evidence that the basketball team was cheating.

There wasn't anybody in Coach Kaz's office, which I took as a sign that my luck was improving. The room was filled with display cases packed full of trophies, I don't think there was one square foot of wall that wasn't covered with pictures of Coach Kaz with various basketball players, or certificates of some kind or another. There was a desk and some chairs towards the other end of the room, and on that desk I could see the remote control and the fake basketball. I picked them up.

"Now, all I have to do is give these to the police..."

And that's when I heard footsteps and voices approaching, one of which was Coach Kaz's.

"Yikes!" I gulped, dropping the ball back on the desk. In a panic, I dashed behind the nearest trophy display case. I didn't notice then that I was still holding the remote. That's when the door opened.

"...And the win is in the bag," Coach Kaz said, as he ushered a companion in. I took a quick peek out from behind the display case and recognized the other guy as the dean of students. This scandalous crime clearly went deeper than the rank and file! I suddenly realized that this was the perfect oppritunity to gather evidence, and quietly pressed the "record" button on my tape recorder.

"Here's the ball," Coach Kaz said, "But where'd the remote go? How am I supposed to make my team win if I can't control the ball?"

The remote? Oh, crud! I was still holding the remote!

"Maybe one of the players took it," Dean Cathartes suggested.

"I always try to keep it hidden so that nobody will find it...Maybe I hid it somewhere?"

I sneaked another peek out from behind the display case. Both men now had their backs to me, Coach Kaz was rooting through a box of what looked like team jerseys. I decided that I would take the chance, and sidled out from behind the display case long enough to slip the remote onto the chair behind the desk, then made it back to my hiding place before either of them noticed.

"What was that?" Coach Kaz asked.

Okay, maybe I wasn't quite as unnoticed as I'd thought.

"What was what?"

"I could've sworn I saw something move...Over here."

Coach Kaz was now walking over to my hiding place. I gulped, and got ready to run. Just as I'd resigned myself to fleeing, fate intervened.

"Wait a minute," the Dean said. "Here's the remote. It was on your chair all along."

Coach Kaz turned away from my hiding place.

"Really? Oh, good. I was starting to get worried there. For a moment, I thought somebody'd stolen it. This would've been the worst time for us to lose."

They both laughed as they turned and left the room. I stepped out from my hiding place, and pressed the "Stop" button on my recorder.

"Who's laughing _now?" _I growled out loud, and then I got an idea. I could take the ball to the cops and have done with, but that wouldn't humiliate the basketball people nearly as much as broadcasting it to the whole school...

I had to sneak around a little more, partly so that nobody'd notice my...Uh...clever disguise, and partly because I hadn't been around this part of the building much. By the time I found the commentator's booth, the game was already well underway, judging by all the cheering I heard. I opened the door to the booth a crack and listened to the announcers inside talking for a minute.

"...And Zenaida passes to Ross..._What a game! _The Contours are making the Harlequins look like total idiots! Now...What the?! Who are you?"

I'd been trying to come up with something cool to say, but my mind was a total blank. Why couldn't I just ignore them? I needed a nifty phrase tosound like I knew what I was doing, but all I could think of was how terrified I was. Wait, terror...

"Who am I? I am the terror of Follicle University," I said. "Uh..D-don't mind me, citizens. I'm just here to pursue some justice. Now, would either of you two fellows know where I can play a tape?"

"Er...Right there," one of them said. "But, you might want to try again another time. We're kind of on live."

"I know, thanks," I told him, and put the tape from the recorder in.

For a moment, all I could think of was that there was no way this was going to work. Machines and I usually didn't get along too well, for all I knew I'd put it on the wrong side or something...

And then, miraculously, it worked. The earlier conversation between Coach Kaz and the Dean began playing over the loudspeaker.

"...Here's the ball...But, where'd the remote go? How am I supposed to make my team win if I can't control the ball?"

I moved over to the window to see what was going on out on the court. You could've heard a pin drop out there. All the players had stopped dead in their tracks, the audience had stopped cheering, and now everyone was sitting there with their jaws dropped.

"Maybe one of the players took it," the Dean's voice echoed around the room.

The Dean was now a lovely shade of egg white. The people around him were talking, I think asking him what was going on, but he just kept shaking hishead.

"I always try to keep it hidden, so nobody will find it...Maybe I hid it somewhere?"

The Follicle U. player who held the ball suddenly dropped it on the floor. It fell with an extremely loud "Thunk" which echoed in the relative silence, and as it hit the floor, the fake ball broke open, just as it had the other day. Talk about adding icing to the cake! I could see Coach Kaz standing on the sidelines, looking like he was about to explode. A couple of grim-faced cops edged their way out of the stands. One of them grabbed Coach Kaz's handsand began cuffing them, the other one walked over to pick up the halves of the fake "ball."

"...I was starting to get worried there. For a moment, I thought somebody'd stolen it. This would've been the worst..."

There was a sudden "click" behind me, and Coach Kaz's recorded voice stopped. I turned around to see one of the commentators ejecting the tape I'd put in, then he started pulling the ribbon out of it.

"Wait...What're you doing?!" I demanded.

"You have a lot of nerve blowing Coach Kaz's cover like that," the guy said.

"Yeah, now we have to go back to losing all our home games again," the other one agreed. "And in front of those lousy Harlequins, too. I'll tear you limb from limb for this!"

I gulped. "Whatever happened to gratitude for exposing a cheater?" I asked.

"Real people don't like losing," the first one growled, as they both began to advance on me.

I frantically searched my mind for a way out of this situation. I couldn't beat them up or anything, in those days I couldn't even beat my way out of a paper bag. Wait, beat. I got an idea. I somehow ducked under a blow from the one on the left, then scrambled to the broadcasting booth behind me and started hitting buttons at random.

"_Don't touch that!" _One of those guys said, and then the air was filled with the dulcet strains of feedback noise. We all clapped our hands to our ears, and I took advantage of the sound, moving faster than the commentators to get out of there.

The hall outside was filled with students, and for one brief moment I hoped they were there to cheer me on. That hope died, as I realized I was stuck in the middle of a gigantic brawl.

It wasn't until later that I found out what was really happening. The die-hard Coach Kaz fans who shared the same attitude as the comentators I'd just escaped and the hotheads from St. Canard U., who were livid at being cheated all these years, were taking their pent-up aggressions out on each other...And I was stuck in the middle of it all.

I took a deep breath and began running full-tilt through the crowd. Luckily, I think they were too occupied with beating the living whey out of each other to notice me, although I did have a couple of close calls. I managed to make it to one of the exits without being noticed...Only to find out that the riot had spread outside, too. I shuddered, pulled my hat down over my eyes, and got back to getting through the crowd. The nearest non-athletic building would be Worcestershire dining hall. With any luck, I could slip into a broom closet or something and ditch my disguise there, then get back to my dorm room without incident.

When I reached Worcestershire, I found out that my plan to ditch my disguise was thwarted, because the place was closed for the night. That was a problem. Looking up, I could see some scaffolding. Oh, yeah, they were remodelling the roof. Maybe I could somehow get up there...But the scaffolding was out of my reach. Then I remembered that there was a big tree next to the building...I somehow scrambled up the trunk of the tree, and somehow made it up to the first branch. So far, so good. But, there was a ten-foot gap between the tree and the building. How was I supposed to cross it?

That was when it hit me in the face. Literally. Some idiot threw a trash can lid at some other idiot, who actually had the nerve to duck. The lid hit me right in the back of my head, sending me flying right onto the roof of Worcestershire. As I recovered from the pain of being hit in my one and only head, I gave some serious thought to taking my disguise off. It was what I'd come to do, and it sounded like a good idea, so I started taking off my jacket, when a familiar voice came drifting up to me.

"My fellow students, listen to me!"

It was a voice I knew only too well.

"Milton?"

I edged over to the edge of the building, hiding behind the scaffolding. Sure enough, it was Milton Thacklethwait. He was standing on a car in the midst of a seething mob of students.

"Everyone, stop fighting!" Milton yelled over the roar of the crowd. "If you don't stop, we could all get into very serious trouble! We could get expelled, or worse! Are you willing to risk your entire educational career on a brawl started by a guy who cheated at a sports game?"

Unfortunately, Milton had said just the wrong words to set off the crowd again. They started trying to get to Milton, probably trying to do that "_Or Worse_" to him. Milton for his part finally realized the danger he was in, and finally stopped talking (For once!).

Well, I couldn't leave Milton to his fate. After all, he and I shared the same opinion as far as Coach Kaz was concerned. Besides, it was kinda my fault he was in this situation. I looked around for something, anything, to distract the crowd. Then I saw a rope coiled around the scaffolding I was hiding behind. The rope looked like it was the right length...I tied one end of the rope very tightly on the edge of the scaffolding, then moved so Iwas standing on the edge of the building. Of course, I had a lot of second thoughts, but then I'd been having second thoughts since I'd started this little incident.

"Here goes nothing," I said.

And jumped.

I can't begin to describe the feeling of that jump. The biggest thought in my head was that I was going to die, if not from that first plunge, then from the crowd below. Then the rope reached the end of its' length, and I was somehow sailing over the heads in the crowd. I managed to keep what would best be called a one-handed death grip on the rope long enough to reach out with my other hand and snatch Milton from the jaws of doom. For a scrawny little nerd, he sure weighed a ton. I'm surprised I didn't drop him right then and there. I was somehow able to keep a grip on him until we was on the other side of the crowd, then my hands both gave out, and we both fell to theground. Fortunately, by that point we were only a few feet off the ground, sowe landed in an undignified heap.

_"Run!"_ I shouted, before the crowd could figure out what had happened.

And run, we did. It was a harrowing race through the back alleys and dark streets of Follicle U, until I couldn't hear any trace of the mob behind us. Then we both slowed down to a stop, trying to catch our breath.

"I...I think we lost 'em," I gasped.

"You saved my life," Milton wheezed. "I thought for sure I was a goner, but you acted like some superhero back there. I can't thank you enough...If there's anything I can do to repay you, just name it."

"Really?" I asked. I suddenly felt less like a guy who was trying to get back at a few basketball players, and more like a hero. And why shouldn't I act like a hero? I suddenly forgot about all the people that wanted to rip me to shreds, all the suffering, and the stupid costume because this one guy had thanked me. Needless to say, it went to my head very quickly.

"Er...Heh...Yup, yup, yup. All in a night's work for heroes like me."

That's when we heard sirens in the distance. I decided that this was as good a time as any to get myself out of there. I don't think Milton saw me leave, he was too busy contemplating the concept of the cops' arrival.

"Wow, it sounds like there's a lot of cops out there. I told those guys they were gonna get in trouble....Wha? Where'd he go?"

I sprinted down a nearby alleyway to the nearest dumpster, quickly doffed my disastrous disguise, then headed for my dorm, and my bed.

It'd been a long night.

The next day, I woke up from a dream about earthquakes to Crash Auburn shaking me.

"Wake up, man! You slept right through it all! You wouldn't believe what happened last night!"

"Let me guess," I croaked groggily. "You've met the girl of your dreams. This would be...What, the fifth one this week?"

"Not this time. Coach Kaz was caught cheating! Some guy revealed it all during last night's game, and everyone went ballistic! There was a massive brawl between the Follicle guys and the Canard people...They brought in the riot police and everything! It was _wild!"_

"And I suppose you weren't involved? Crash, your academic career could go down the tubes for this."

"How stupid d'you think I am, man? I was only there until the riot police showed up, and I wasn't even in the crowd."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah, I was up on the top of Horter Hall tossing water balloons on everyone."

"Crash, it's a wonder you're still alive. Hey, did they ever find out who the guy that started it all was?"

"Nah, not many people saw him, and I heard he wore a mask, like he was some kind of superhero."

Later that day, I happened to see Milton Thacklethwait and his friends outside the library.

"Hey, Drake!" Milton called, upon seeing me, "Didja hear about what happened last night? Some mysterious guy acted like a comic book hero, and managed to get the basketball coach locked up for cheating! And I'll tell you something else, I actually saw the guy, I even _talked _to him! I wish more people were honest like that."

"I heard the basketball team's taken out a hitman contract on that guy," one of Milton's nerdy friends said.

"_I'd_ heard it was one of the football players that exposed them," another one remarked.

"My sister says that it was her cousin's friend's boyfriend," a third nerd volunteered.

By this point, I was absolutely itching to set those guys straight. Since they were nerds, and not likely to care about basketball, I tried to subtly push them on the right track.

"You guys, it takes a lot of brains to plan a stunt like that. It couldn't have been an ordinary guy. For all we know, it could've been...Er...Someone like me."

They all stared at me, then burst out laughing.

"What?" I demanded. "What is so funny about an idea like that?"

"Well, think about it, Drake," Milton said between more laughter. "You're not the athletic type. In fact, you're almost as nerdy as we are! How could a geek like you act like a superhero?"

"I am _not_ a nerd," I yelled. "I'm not like you!"

"Of course not," one of the others said. "Unlike us, you couldn't stay awake in class if your life depended on it!"

I stifled the urge to scream the truth at them. At this point, with so many other students walking by, that would've made me into a walking target...Or worse, a laughingstock.

"Y-yeah, you're right," I said as I laughed awkwardly. "Well, I'll see you around."

And I walked away. I headed straight for the registry of Majors.

I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

And that's how I became a crime fighter. Partly because Milton and his friends said I couldn't, partly because I had always wanted to be like those guys in my comic books, but mostly for the ego boos...er, I mean the pleasure of thwarting bad guys, and saving people, and having them thank you later. It's things like that which make me happy I chose this path.

Of course, that was just the beginning. I majored in Chemistry and Criminal Law (Which unfortunately became my "Nap Class") Meanwhile, I worked on getting myself into shape. My training regimen? Proclaiming I'd forgotten a book and running up the stairs to get it. (Of course, there were times when that wasn't a lie.) I also took advantage of my job at the gym to work out in it, along with cleaning it. It was a convenient job.

I suppose you're wondering where the name "Darkwing Duck" came up in the first place. Well, in my senior year at high school, not too long before the prom incident, there was a video game at the arcade called "The Legend of the Dark Word." Not that the game was any good, it was only in the arcade for about a month. Still, the whole gloomy atmosphere of the game looked pretty darn cool to me. 'Course, I didn't want a word-y name. Maybe something else that sounded similar, like Dark Wing...For a spur of the moment name, it worked out pretty well, didn't it?

And that's more or less where the name came from.

I distinctly remember the first time I really tried out my heroic persona. Crash was out dating the latest "Girl-of-my-dreams." I'd taken advantage of Crash's dates to work on a dramatic, yet good-looking costume, similar to the one I'd had that time in high school. It was one of those dark and stormy nights when I finished, and I felt the time was right to see how cool I looked. I was pleasantly surprised to see I looked very cool, indeed. I decided to increase the dramatic-ness by saying something that would make villians cower.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night...I am the dice that comes up on the wrong number...I am Darkwing Duck!"

I suppose those of you that have seen the show can figure out most of what happened between that point and the point where the show started, but just in case, here's the gist of what happened.

I managed to finish college, even taking the seven-year "Super Senior" path. Once I was done with college, I wanted to learn all kinds of ways to beat up bad guys, so I spent the first five years after college travelling the world,looking for more really cool techniques. 'Course, I never stayed with any one teacher too long. Mostly because of my overblown ego...Er, I mean, I wanted to become a "Jack of all Trades," if you will. The longest time I stayed with any sort of teacher was that time in Kung Pao learning Quack Fu. 'Course,

there was that one move I never mastered, but that's another story. That was also about the time when I decided to drop my whole secret identity as Drake Mallard, and went as Darkwing Duck all day. Not that I was out during the day, for the most part. I usually slept during the days

I didn't exactly spend all of the training years training, though. I sometimes took the occasional case. Most of them were small-timers, though. The only exception to this was a certain power junkie, but at that point I think we were both working on building up reputations.

Meanwhile, my parents finally got fed up with the rising crime rate back in St. Canard. They moved to some city up the coast...What was it called again? Cape Suzie? Cape Mary-Sue? Something like that.

Anyways, I eventually decided I was ready to take on real criminals. I was 30 when I moved back to my hometown. After about a year of figuring thing out, I started my crime-fighting career. I also managed to find the perfect place for a secret base, where I could spend my time looking for criminals (And spend my time off sleeping.) The Audubon Bay Bridge was not only convenient for those times where I had to drive off and find criminals, it was also a place that sounded cool. I mean, the words "Quick, Launchpad, to the tower!" sound more dramatic than "To the old run-down warehouse." See?

I'm sure that the more astute of the people who have watched my show have wondered how I got that big computer in my tower, especially when (As one fan put it once) I couldn't even make the VCR stop flashing 12:00. Well, the answer is simple. I had an old aquaintance by the name of Milton Thacklethwait. Milton, it turned out, works for the very technological Pommegranite Computers. He makes more in a day than I normally see in a year. Anyways, When I was making my secret base, I decided that that would be a good time to call in a favor he owed me. I asked for a high-tech crime-fighting computer, I got it. Along with a letter with the words "Now we're even" on it. So much for living off the rich...

Of course, setting up that computer wasn't exactly a walk in the park. I'm lucky I didn't fry myself a dozen times trying to get that thing working.

Oh, and just in case you wanted to know (Although I sure didn't) Crash Auburn dropped out of college in his junior year, and was promptly snapped up by some professional team. He now makes as much as Milton, still goes through girlfriends like I go through cases, and still doesn't remember my name.

Coach Kaz also hit it big after he got out of jail. Namely by writing memoirs and self-help books. His latest has the charming title of "You Weenie! Stop whining, and get a life already!" Naturally, I've been avoiding those books like the plague.

I'm sure I know what's going through your head. He's probably jealous because of all that, you say. Well, so what if they make more money than me? I have a job I enjoy, a family who may not be the most pleasant, but they still respect me...Up to a point, at least. Ha, I'd like to see Milton or Crash put up with my family for a day...Gos would have them running for the hills!

Still, I wouldn't mind a six-figure per week income once in a while...

But I'm getting off subject. Anyways, it was a year or so after I started my crime-fighting career of taking on small gangs and small time criminals that I finally took on a big time criminal. And with that, I not only got a loyal (Albeit loopy) sidekick, I also adopted a sarcastically spirited daughter...

And then things _really_ started to change.


	2. Chapter 2

_The duck looked like he'd really been through the wringer, the editor thought. Then again, he was a cartoon character, so he'd be completely normal the next day. Still, the duck had made quite an entrance, staggering in all covered in bandages._

_"Sorry about the mess," the duck gasped. "I made the mistake of letting my daughter prepare dinner while I wrote...She left a can of soup, still in the can, boiling on the stove, then went out to play with her friends. I know it was stupid, but I was so busy writing...I get like that sometimes."_

_"That's perfectly all right, mister Duck," the editor told him. "Now, the manuscript..."_

_"Right here," the Duck said, pulling a sheaf of papers out of his cape. The editor took the papers and thumbed through them._

_"Is this the whole story...? I was expecting a lot more."_

_"Well, you guys already know the rest of the story. If I wrote that down, you'd accuse me of plagarizing or something. Of course, if you want I can do the story of how I met the others, but I've heard you've already done an episode on it."_

_"Maybe if this project works out all right we can do a sequel with the actual episodes from your point of view, but right now we're doing this project. Hmm...Well, it looks like a good short story. Hey, here's an idea. Maybe you can write a bunch of short stories about all the things that didn't make it to the TV show. Like, how you got involved with SHUSH, or how you met the Muddlefoots."_

_"Well, I suppose I could write about that..."_

_"Yeah, we can make it into a collection of short stories. I can see it now: 'The Untold adventures of Darkwing Duck.' That sure has a nice ring to it."_

_"Er...Yeah, now that you mention it...I suppose this means I'll have to go back home and write some more. Assuming that my life doesn't get in the way again...I think Gos has a big hockey tournament coming up soon."_

_"Well, like I said, there's no deadlines. Just bring each story here when you're done with it so our editors can go through it. Hey, maybe you can bring your daughter here with you next time. I'm good with kids."_

_The duck laughed. "Famous last words!"_

Part 2: The Secret of SHUSH

Well, you apparently want more, so I'll give you more. I'll start with the story of how I met such characters as the Muddlefoots, and how I got involved with the intelligence network SHUSH (Although going by the likes of the supposedly top SHUSH agent, Grizzlikov, "Intelligence" is probably the wrong word.)

Anyways, those stories are the earliest within the context of the show, so I guess they're first on the list. The events happened within weeks of each other, so it's not too much of a stretch to put them both in the same story.

After the Bulba incident, my amazing recovery from said incident, and the acquisition of an actual family, it actually took us about a week to find a house that the three of us could actually live in. All the places nearest to the Tower were one-bedroom apartments, hardly the sort of place to raise a kid in. On the other hand, all the family places were out in the suburbs, which made it a bit hard for me to get to the tower easily. So, we kept searching. We spent nights over at Launchpad's hangar, since his place had more sleeping room than the tower.

One week later, we found a good place. A four-bedroom house up on Avian way that was near enough to the tower that I could easily build a tunnel or something to get there.

We actually got most of the money to buy the place from me, I'd been saving upall the money from the rewards I'd gotten from busting gangs and stopping shoplifters. Some of it came from Launchpad, though. He got some money out of selling his old hangar. When I asked him where he got the money to buy the hangar in the first place, he said that he'd been saving up from doing local air shows, although given the condition of the hangar, he hadn't gotten much out of those. Would you believe that his previous job was working for some rich guy up in Duckburg? I wouldn't have minded working for a rich guy like that...I'm a bit surprised that Launchpad quit working for that guy, but then, it was his life, the rich guy's loss, and my gain.

Anyways, a day after we'd actually bought the place, we went furniture shopping, and then it was time to actually move in. As a matter of fact, I was attempting to move a good-sized coffee table inside, when I heard a voice from the direction of the house to my right.

"Boy, howdy! New neighbors!"

"Boy, howdy?" I repeated. "Who says 'Boy, howdy' these days?"

My answer came a few seconds later, as a very chubby fellow came around the fence from next door. He enthusiastically took my hand and began shaking it,apparently not noticing that I needed that hand to hold the table, and that without that hand, the table dropped right on to my foot.

"Glad to meet'cha, neighbor. Name's Herb. Herb Muddlefoot," the fellow chattered on happily.

"Er...Nice to meet you, too," I ground out around the excruciating pain of having a table on one's foot. "I'm Drake Mallard..."

"Dad? What's going on?" Gosalyn asked, coming out from behind the moving van. At the same time, I noticed Launchpad walking over from the direction of the house. I quickly pulled my foot out from under the table.

"Oh, just meeting the neighbors, honey. Gos, Launchpad, this is Herb Muddlefoot. Herb, this is my daughter Gosalyn, and my...Uh...Old college roommate, Launchpad Mcquack."

"College? But I n..." Launchpad began. Thankfully, Gos was quicker on the uptake, and pointedly elbowed him.

"So, Herb," I said quickly to cover the subtle slip-up, "You live over there?

I pointed to the house where he had come from.

"You bet your bikini bottoms, I do! Me, the wife, an' the boys. Say, here's an idea. What say you three come over to our place tonight, and we'll have us a big ol' barbeque? My treat. Maybe after we can crank up the old TV and all watch 'Pelican's Island' together? They're gonna be showing the Cloud episode tonight."

"Well, I don't know," I said. "There's still a lot of furniture to move, and we gotta have the rental truck back before Eight..."

And to be honest, I wasn't looking forward to spending any amount of time with this guy. "Pelican's Island?" That TV show had ended before I was even born. That was how old it was. It also showed its' age, as I recalled. The plots were so paper-thin that I could figure them out before the show had been on for five minutes. And I was just a kid back then. That was how awful that show was.

"Aw, c'mon you guys, it'll be loads of fun. I'll see you tonight," Herb burbled, and he waddled back behind the fence to his own place. We all stood there for a minute, watching him go, then I turned back to the table I'd dropped.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I have enough work on my hands that I don't need any big barbeques."

"I dunno, D.W., Launchpad said. "I'm kinda in the mood for a barbeque, and I love 'Pelican's Island'."

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, Dad," Gos piped up. "And I'd appreciate eating something besides your cooking once in a while."

"And what's wrong with my cooking?" I demanded, "It's good for you. And besides, it's better than Launchpad's by a long shot."

"Good for me?! How are brussels sprouts supposed to be good for me? Besides, Dad, we're trying to blend in with the normal people, right?"

"Well, I...Uh..."

"And, what do normal people do? They don't eat brussels sprouts, they eat barbeques and act all social and hang out with their neighbors...Right?"

"But I don't want to hang out with that guy," I whined.

"Tough luck, Dad. You're outvoted."

I growled irritably under my breath. "Fine. Have it your way. But, if we're going to their place, we need to move the rest of the stuff into the house, so we can get the truck back on time. This means no more goofing off to see how many channels the TV gets, okay?" And I turned and resumed moving the coffee table to the house.

"Aw, but Dad, that's a vitally important task to any normal person. I had to do it."

"Not for over an hour, you didn't," I called over my shoulder.

Unfortunately, we all got the furniture inside in good time to bring the rental truck back. Why is it always the times that I don't want to rush that they actually get these things done? Anyways...As we headed over to the place next door, I could smell the aroma of overcooked burgers. I guessed that Herb Muddlefoot was a bit too enthusiastic with his lighter fluid. The Muddlefoot family's backyard was an amazingly typical affair, I saw a pool, as well as a swingset and a small garden.

"Why, there you are, Drake-ster!" I cringed and turned to see Herb walking over. "You haven't met my wife an' boys yet," Herb continued. He pointed to a woman who was walking over. "That's my wife, Binky."

Binky Muddlefoot looked like she hadn't left the sixties. She was wearing an old-fashioned blue dress, her hair was fairly short and neatly permed. Her face held the expression of someone who hadn't a care in the world...Let alone a brain in her head. She laughed, a high-pitched squeaking titter.

"Oh, I'm so delighted to meet you. Herb was just telling me he was looking for an excuse to barbeque the other day," she said in a voice that matched her laugh. "And I'm happy to see you have a daughter. We have two boys about the same age. I've always wanted a daughter...Oh, if you're ever short on dresses, I have a few lying around from that time I tried dressing Honker up."

"You try and put a dress on me..." Gosalyn began. I quickly intervened.

"Uh...Thanks, Binky, but I really don't think we need one right now."

"An' those are the boys over there," Herb said, pointing over to a nearby picnic table. The two kids sitting there looked like complete and total opposites. One of them looked like a typical nerd, glasses and all. At least I think he had glasses. I couldn't see his face too well because it was buried in a rather large book. The other one was a hulking goon of a kid. That one definitely looked like he was up to no good.

"Hey, jerk-wad," he exclaimed. "You got a fly on you!" And he took the chance to nearly knock his brother off the bench with one blow.

"Aw, it's gone? Oh well, I must've scared it off," And the goon-kid laughed nastily.

"Aren't they adorable?" Binky burbled cheerfully. "The one on the left's Tankard, we like to call him Tank."

"Everyone says he takes after me," Herb boasted. "And the other one's Herbie Junior, but we just call him Honker, so's nobody gets confused."

Well, if I had a name like Herbert Muddlefoot, Junior, I'd consider changing my name, too. Anyways, the three of us sat down at the picnic table with Binky and her kids, while Herb attempted to turn burgers into charcoal briquettes.

"So, Launchpad, you're from Duckburg?" Binky asked. "Oh, that's wonderful! I've always wanted to go there, but I never found the time. What about you, Drake? Have you ever been there?"

"No," I said. "I never really had a reason to go."

"I was there, once," Gos remarked. We all turned to look at her.

"Really?" I asked.

"Now wait a minute, Drake, how could you not know she went to Duckburg?" Binky squeaked indignantly. "You're her father after all, and Duckburg is kind of far away from here."

"Er...That's because Gos is adopted," I told her. "She was living at an orphanage until I met her."

"Oh...Er...That's really sweet of you," she said, kinda obviously taken aback by that statement.

"So, when were you in Duckburg?" Launchpad asked Gosalyn.

"About two or three years ago, back when I lived with Grampa. We went to some inventors' convention up there."

"Hey, I had a friend back in Duckburg that was an inventor. I wonder if you guys met him there. A guy called Gyro Gearloose?"

"Actually, I think we did. He was a really skinny guy, right?"

"Yup, that's the guy. We were good buddies back when I lived there."

"Yeah, he seemed nice enough," Gos said, "But he was kinda like my Grampa. When they started talking science, they would not stop."

"Hey, Drake-a-roo," Herb called from over by the grill, "Your burgers are done, come an' get 'em."

"Sure thing," I said, stifling annoyance at being dragged from what probably would've been a fascinating conversation about the pasts of my daughter and my sidekick. "Done?" Those "burgers" were probably "Done" enough to be used to construct buildings without breaking! As I brought the so-called "Burgers" back to the table, I found myself seated between Gosalyn and the little Muddlefoot monste...Uh, Tank.

"You know," Tank remarked, "You actually seem like nice people...I hope you last longer than the last neighbors we had."

"Uh...What happened to the last neighbors?" Launchpad asked from across the table.

"Oh, they made the mistake of staying there on Mother's Day night," Tank told him. "I heard it from my friend at school whose brother saw it all...A witch had a son that lived there, but he never called her, so she got angry and put a curse on his house. Now every year on Mother's Day, she rises again, to take care of any naughty boys she finds living in her son's old house. The guys that used to live there...Well, let's just say the police couldn't find any trace of them, or their things."

"R-r-r-really?" Launchpad now sounded fairly nervous. Actually, I couldn't help feeling a shiver run down my spine at the tone of Tank's voice.

"Nah, of course that's not true," Gos said. "They won the lottery and moved to some high rise."

"Spoilsport," Tank muttered under his breath.

"I wish I could see a ghost," Gos continued. "Then I could take its' picture and make millions."

"Where did you hear about the neighbors, anyways?" I asked her.

"Honker told me."

"Honker?" I attempted to remember where I'd heard that name before.

"Yeah, Honker. Or have you forgotten that the Muddlefoots have two kids?"

"Now, why would I forget that?" I lied. "I'll have you know, I trained with Tibetan yogis. I have the memory of an elephant."

"Yeah, right," she said.

To be honest, that Honker kid was kinda forgettable. It was probably a defense tactic, considering who his family was. He was about as assertive as a piece of paper, and at that time, to me it seemed like he had almost as much personality as one, too. He hardly ever spoke, let alone raised his voice, and in those days he had his face buried in a book all the time. Actually, he wasn't in my face all the time, like the rest of his family, which in itself was a big plus in my eyes at least.

When we finished our meal, I was all ready to go. However, Herb would have none of that, and I had to endure a marathon of "Pelican's Island." Finally, the night wore out, and we said our goodbyes to the Muddlefoots.

"We should do this more often," Herb exclaimed.

"Sure, Herb, anytime." I said. Then, under my breath, "Any time I need a cure for insomnia."

And that is how we met the Muddlefoots. And now that I've gotten that out of the way, I can move on to a more interesting story, namely how I first became involved with SHUSH.

As the next few weeks passed and we settled in, it was a bit of a difficult time for us, especially myself. I was trying to get used to having something that could reasonably be called a normal life, and that meant not being a crime fighter all the time. For instance, I had to keep the monologuing to my "Night job," if you will. Meanwhile, I needed to get a nice "Day Job," so I could really tell people I worked. It turned out that finding a job like that was harder than it looked.

My last "Real" job, aside from all the temporary jobs I had done while travelling the world, was back in college, as a janitor. Well, crime fighter might look good on the resume, but it would kinda compromise my secret identity, so for all intents and purposes, my last job was working as a janitor some seven years ago. That was probably why it took me so long to get a "Real" job. In the end, when a company did hire me, it turned out to be for something I enjoyed almost as much as I did crime fighting, play-testing video games for an up-and-coming company named Capicat. The only problem with that job was that they only needed me when they'd designed a new video game, so the "Real" job could be called "Part-time" at best, and "Non-existent" at worst.

And that's why money was a problem in those early days. Catching minor criminals didn't pay nearly enough to support a three-person family, and with the "Real" job paying even less on average than I made as a janitor back in college, the old budget belt was getting tighter by the day.

"I don't believe this!" I sputtered, pounding my writing desk in frustration. "Bills, bills, and more bills...You'd think a crime fighter who risks his neck night after night would make more than enough to keep a small family afloat!"

Launchpad looked up from the mechanics he was working on for the trap door that would eventually lead to the Tower. "Well," he said, "There was more, but I think we spent it on repairing the Ratcatcher. Hey, what about that last stop we made at the bank? Didn't you put some money in?"

"That was Gos' inheritance money. Her grandfather was an inventor, remember? He made a lot of money off his inventions, and left it to her when he died. I'm trying to save it for her college fund, but if it keeps up like this..." I shook my head. "I hope a major super-villain comes up, soon. And that this time, I don't get short-changed, like last time."

"Yeah, I know D.W.," Launchpad responded, "But remember what Dr. Dendron said, St. Canard U. is on a tight budget, and that Bushroot guy really messed the place up, so they had to pay for the damages..."

"I know, I know," I said. "But that doesn't make things any easier for us. Who'd have thought that having a real life would be so hard?"

Patrolling the city in the Ratcatcher that night started off relatively uneventfully. There were the usual suspects to be brought in. Bank robbers, a gang or two, and one nasty incident where some otherwise upstanding citizen had the nerve to make fun of my hat. Needless to say, that fellow was lucky he hadn't done anything else...And even luckier Launchpad was there to talk me out of punching that guy's lights out.

So, like I said that night started relatively calm. Then, it happened. The police radio got a report of a break-in at a convenience store a couple blocks from where we were. Some guy had stolen a load of lottery tickets and had made off with them.

"Did you hear that L.P.?" I asked.

"Sure did, D.W."

"Then, let's get dangerous!" I said.

"The conveniently close corrupt crook had no idea what was coming to him," I narrated. "The daring do-gooder, Darkwing Duck, was hot on his trail like a match on a hotfoot..." I looked up from scouring the ground of the crime scene with a magnifying glass. "Any sign of the scoundrel?"

"Well, not so far," Launchpad said. "I...Hey, I think I see him!"

Sure enough, there was a guy sitting in a nearby alley, within sight of the store in fact. This guy was scratching what looked like a lottery ticket, and more interestingly there was a large pile of both scratched and un-scratched lottery tickets at his feet. Not exactly the brightest brick in the building, was he? The guy was so engrossed in scratching his tickets that he didn't notice us sneaking up on him...Which made it easier to think of something cool to say while capturing him. The guy finished scratching his ticket, and threw

it to the ground in disgust, giving me a good chance to say that something cool.

"Well well, looks like we have another loser," I said pointing my gas gun at him. "Are you going to come quietly, or do you want to eat tear gas?"

The cowardly crook promptly scooped up a handful of unscratched lottery tickets and started running down the alley.

"Drat!" I yelped. Typical. They never wanted to take the easy way out. I fired the gas gun, sending a cannister of tear gas flying at the fleeing felon, but much to my annoyance, the guy actually tripped and fell. The shot missed him, and the cannister flew into one of the alley's walls and deposited its' payload there. The guy picked himself up, and actually managed to get out of the way and running again before the tear gas reached him.

"After him," I yelled, breaking into a sprint. I managed to hold my breath as I ran through the expanding cloud of tear gas. Launchpad wasn't so lucky, I heard him bawling as I got out of the alley and turned the corner after the suspect. It took me a few seconds for me to find the guy, then I noticed him climbing up a nearby fire escape. Great, so much for an uneventful night! I rushed up the fire escape after him, hoping to corner him on the rooftop. Sure enough, the guy finished his percipitous climb, only to find he was trapped on the rooftop.

"Ha," I wheezed, striking a Karate pose. "Nobody gets away from Darkwing Duck! Now surrender, or else I'll have to go hard on you."

And then the guy took one of those desparate gambles. He got on the edge of the roof, and somehow leapt to the roof of the next building over.

"Trying to outmaneuver me, eh?" I asked. "You'll have to get up pretty early in the morning to do that." Then I jumped after him...And ended up clinging to the edge of the building by the tips of my fingers.

"Ack!" I yelped. Fortunately, the felon was more interested in saving his own skin than taking advantage of my precarious position.

"The daring Darkwing Duck defies death yet again..." I grunted as I pulled myself up. "Now, where did that billy-goat goon get to?"

The "Goon" in question was at the other end of the roof, heading for the fire escape, and solid ground. I whipped out my gas gun, and its' grappling hook atattchment.

"Let's see you get away from this!"

I shot the grappling hook. The felonius fiend ducked, but this time the hook went exactly where I wanted it. It caught on the railing of the fire escape Now, all I had to do was press the button to reel it in, and I'd get a free ride, right into the crook. Well y'know, that part of the plan worked perfectly. My one problem was that in my eagerness to aprehend that guy, I'd failed to compensate for the fact that we were still two stories above the ground. We both went flying off the building.

"Yikes!" I yelped, and it was at that point where (Naturally) the rope on thegas gun broke. I know it was only a two-story fall, and I've bounced back from worse...

...but still I knew it was going to_ hurt_.

"Did anyone get the number on that cold hard pavement?" I croaked.

It took me a couple of minutes to bounce back from that fall. As I sat up, I noticed that the felon I was chasing had fled the scene. Judging by the fact that a nearby trash bin was now on its' side, and that there was now a fair amount of garbage in the street, I guessed that the guy had had a softer landing than I had. It figured.

I got up, grabbed my gas gun, and headed in the direction of the scattered garbage. With any luck, I would be able to find where the culprit had gone, and pick up the chase again. This section was once the industrial district of the city, before the industry had moved elsewhere. Now, all that was left was a bunch of run-down old warehouses, a perfect place for rats like my felonious foe to hide.

All of the warehouses were dark...But then just as I was about to give up, I noticed that the windows of one warehouse weren't entirely dark, as if someone was shining a flashlight inside. Well, if it wasn't that felon I was looking for, then it would probably be a break-in, something that would mean more money for me, possibly even paying the bills for the month.

The inside of the warehouse was pitch black. I stumbled over several box-likeobjects as my eyes got used to the lack of light. I could clearly see the glow of that flashlight I'd noticed earlier. As I got closer, I could hear voices.

"You'll never get away with this! They'll find you, and bring F.O.W.L. to their knees!"

What was this? So, it really was a break-in. I guessed that this F.O.W.L. was some new gang of some sort, because I'd never heard of them before. I could see around ten figures, one of whom held the flashlight that had brought me there. The flashlight's beam was focused on some nerdy looking guy, probably a scientist of some sort. He was the one who had spoken, naturally. The others, I assumed they were the gang's members, all had their backs to me, but I couldn't see what they looked like in the darkness surrounding us.

One of the threatening gang members laughed. "Ha, you guys've been saying that for years, but we're still here."

Well, it sure looked like a break-in to me. I prepared for one of my trademark dramatic entrances by sneaking around the group, and climbing onto the highest thing I could find, which was a stack of crates of some kind.

"Okay, boys," the gang member continued, "You know the old saying about dead scientists telling no tales, right?"

There was a chorus of ominous laughter, and the sounds of a bunch of guns clicking. I figured that this was as good a time as any to make a timely entrance.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night...I am the crate that says 'this side up'...I am Darkwing Du..."

Just as I said the last part, the mook who had the flashlight turned it on me. Normally, I'd have appreciated the dramatic effect, but at that point, I wasn't expecting it right in my eyes.

"Wha...Ow!" I was dazzled by the flashlight, and kinda...Um...Lost my balance and fell off the crates. Luckily, this...Er...inadvertent stumble saved my life. A hail of bullets whirred through the spot where I'd been standing. All of a sudden, the lights in the warehouse flashed on. I suspected that the threatened scientist had done that, and was probably calling the police. That meant that I had to take the gang guys down fast...I turned back to my assailants, and did a double take.

The gang looked like something out of a Derek Blunt movie. They were all dressed up in bright yellow spandex, which made them look like moving targets...Not to mention extremely tacky. Their heads were covered in some weird egg-shaped helmets. They didn't look much like gang members, but with the things some kids were wearing these days, they could very well be some new gang. They sure were packing heat, though, and I wasn't surprised to see all that "heat" was aimed at me.

"Nice getup," one of them said. "Going for the Zorro look?"

"Well, I always found it more attractive than the Roboduck look," I retorted.

And then they opened fire at me, but this time I was ready for them. With lightning reflexes, I dodged behind the crates, then whipped out my gas gun. I shot a gas pellet right at those guys, making an excellent smoke cover, and took advantage of it to show off my kung-fu moves, kicking one in the stomach, throwing another one into a pile of crates, then just plain old punching a third.

Three down...

Then, as my smoke cover thinned out, I had to dodge another barrage of bullets. Thinking quickly, I dived behind my stack of crates. As I suspected, these were low-level mooks. Three of them provided some cover fire, while the other four stopped shooting, and tried to sneak behind the crates, no doubt thinking they had me pinned down. In fact, I was on top of another stack of crates, and pushing the crate at the top down onto their heads.

Seven down...

The last three mooks apparently had had enough. They began sneaking off to the warehouse's side door, all the while keeping up a steady cover fire. I however anticipated a cut-and-run, and was there to defeat them with more of that hand-to-hand combat.

"Eight...Nine..." I kept count of how many were left, even as I took them down with a well-placed two-by-four. The last remaining mook was a bit faster than his fellows, and actually made it to the exit. I tried to stop him, but this time I was too slow. Apparently, they had a getaway car all prepared, one of those millitary-grade jeeps, even. I screeched to a stop, as I watched that one remaining gang member drive around the corner, and away. Of all the times not to have a vehicle handy...

And that was when I heard the sounds of approaching police sirens. Definitely time to go.

"There you are, D.W!" Launchpad said cheerfully, as I arrived at the robbed convenience store a half-hour later. "I just heard on the radio that the cops caught that shoplifter, so we don't have to worry about him, anymore."

"'We don't have to worry about him anymore,'" I imitated his voice sarcastically. "Need I remind you that that guy had a reward attatched to him? A reward we could've used to pay the cable bill? Think about that the next time you're trying to catch the latest re-run of 'Pelican's Island!'"

"Rough night?"

"You could say that," I sighed. "Now, let's go home. I'm ready for bed."

Normally, I sleep until Noon with my "Night job," but what with all the recent changes in my life, the next day I was surprised to find myself awake by 8 , they hadn't called me in for work in my "Day job" that day yet, and they probably wouldn't. Again. So, I decided to do a little of the old domestic derring-do, and vaccum a little, with the radio to keep me company. A while later, the radio launched into my favorite song, a bouncy, upbeat tune, which improved my mood enough that I started to sing along.

_"Hippo-Buger in hollywood...Medium rare, an' mustard sound good..."_

Something occured to me, then. It was a school day, right? Gos needed to get moving if she wanted to catch the bus.

"Gos-alyn! You're gonna be late! Get dressed, already! ..._I'm just a Hippo-Burger in Holl-ly-wood!_ Gos, hurry up, the bus will be here soon!"

The song then moved on to the big guitar solo. By this point, I was into the song enough that I picked up the vaccum, (Which had the effect of involuntarily vaccuming up the upholstery, however my mood was good enough that I really didn't notice it right then) and began mimicing a guitar player.

That's when I heard a thump from the direction of the stairs. From the sound of that, I guessed that "Little miss sunshine" was up.

"Let's see..." I muttered. "Today's Tuesday, right? Tuesday's her math test, so that means she'll be using the old 'I'm sick' approach..."

"Dad, I think I'm sick," Gosalyn said from behind me.

Yup, right on schedule, too.

"You're sick?! Gosalyn, this is the third week in a row you've tried that."

"But, it's serious this time. I think it's...Uh...Peruvian Death Flu, yeah." She coughed unconvincingly. "I need to stay home today."

"Oh, no you don't, young lady. You've never even been to Peru. Fool me once, shame on me..."

"Aw, not this baloney again!"

"I think that's my line," I growled. "Now look, the bus is coming. You'd better get ready for school."

"But, I can't go to school, I'm sick! See?" She coughed again, sounding just as fake as the last time.

"If you say so," I said, "But I think I'll let the thermometer be the judge before I let you stay home."

That did it. "Oh, look at this, I'm feeling a bit better. I guess I should go to school after all" Gos said, then stormed off grumbling.

"Yup-yup-yup," I said. "Do I know kids, or do I know kids?"

That night, like the night before, started out like any other for us. Launchpad and I went out in the Ratcatcher, to scour out any scum we could find. Preferably scum with large prices on their heads, so we could pay the bills. Still, there was one thing that bothered me. It was about that fight in the warehouse the night before. Namely, that I couldn't find anything about it in any media source, no matter how hard I looked.

"So, let me get this straight," I snapped irritably. "There's no mention whatsoever of that incident in the warehouse anywhere, newspapers, the TV news, I even listened to those talky AM channels on the radio, nothing. I can't find anything about that fight. I mean, seriously, I took down all those gang members. I did all the work, _me! _And what thanks do I get for it?! I just don't understand it!

"M-maybe because that warehouse was supposed to be empty," Launchpad said unhelpfully. "There wasn't anything interesting there for them to steal, so why would the newspapers have anything about a gang trying to steal nothing? Or maybe that fall off the building was a bit too hard, and you dreamed the whole thing?"

"Oh, for the love of...I know a dream when I see one, all right?!" I growled. "And I know the police were involved, so there goes your little 'stealing nothing' theory. But right now, we have other things to worry about...Like, where are all the crooks? Next month's electric bill won't pay for itself, you know...Especially not with a power gamer like Gosalyn in the house. We need a case, something, anything! A robbery, a felony, a..."

A long black limo suddenly pulled in alongide the Ratcatcher. I felt an arm grab me by the scruff of the neck, and pull me off the motorcycle, and right into the strange limo.

_"Kiiidnaaaapiiiing!" _I finished, belatedly.

The two goons inside the limo looked like your typical "Men in Black." They had the suits, the shades, the whole getup. Of course, I had no idea why they would want to kidnap a crime fighter like me.

"I don't know who you are," I blustered. "But, you're gonna regret messing with this daring do-gooder!"

"Calm down, mister Duck," one of them said. "We mean you no harm."

"Yeah, sure you don't," I said sarcastically. "You just kidnapped me, dragged me into a strange vehicle, and now we're going to an unknown destination. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this."

Who were these guys, anyway? The Mafia came to mind. Maybe one of their head honchoes wanted some additional muscle to take down a rival syndicate? Of course, when that was done he'd use me as a patsy to blame for the mess, and I'd turn into a walking target. Not that I wasn't already, but I didn't need the additional hazzard.

"We aren't at liberty to say much, but our director would like to talk to you," the other guy said. "He requested your services personally. We had to make the transition to our protection as quickly and quietly as possible. I'msure you'd understand the nature of our situation once you talk to the director."

So, I was right. This was one of those high-rise syndicates. Wouldn't it bring a lot of money if I took their so-called "Director" out? That could keep us going for years financially.

The limo snaked through the deserted streets of St. Canard, finally bringing us to the governatorial section of the city. It turned into a parking lot next to a building I recognized.

"Hold on," I spluttered. "The registry of motor vehicles?! You're saying that your top-secret secret base is in the RMV?!"

"We needed a building that was close enough to the hub of town that we could inform the mayor in the event of an emergency," one of the goons told me.

"Emergency?" I asked. Knowing these guys, it was probably so that they could shake the mayor down for money.

"Life-threatening crises, and F.O.W.L. activity," the goon said.

F.O.W.L.? That had been the gang that had tried robbing the warehouse last night. So, they were the "other syndicate?" Well, it certainly explained the tacky uniforms, a little...Athough not the color. Yellow? Eww.

The inside of the RMV looked perfectly normal, albeit deserted, because it was the middle of the night. One of the goons slipped behind the reception desk and pushed a button that was hidden under the counter, right about where the burglar alarm would be, normally. A secret passageway opened up in the nearby wall, right behind the big "Buckle up...it's the law" poster. I could see stairs decending a long way down towards something.

"These stairs will take us to SHUSH H.Q.," one of the goons remarked. "Normally, we try to keep a skeleton crew up on the surface. Our director sometimes gets tired of living in the secure part of the building, and recieves visitors in an office in the official part."

"Is that so," I said. SHUSH? Was that the name of the syndicate? It actually sounded more like something out of a Derek Blunt movie, but that could be part of their plan to lull the public into turning a blind eye to their activities.

We walked down the stairs and through corridor after corridor of high-tech looking stuff, and laboratories, with what looked like a few training rooms to round out the equation. The syndicate obviously went much deeper than the average mafia. I could see what was evidently the SHUSH logo everywhere, on walls, clipboards, and doors.

We eventually came to a different corridor. Now there were more "men-in-black" types standing at attention, evidently guards. We arrived at a set of open doors midway down the corridor. Two more goons stood on either side of the doors, more guards I guessed. From what I could see through the doors, the space inside looked like a large meeting room.

"This is the place," one of the guys that were with me said. "Where's Professor Carter to identify him? The higher-ups said he'd be here."

"Professor Carter went back to his lab," the goon guarding the door announced. "He wanted to continue his experiments. The director gave him permission, but if you wish we could bring him back here."

"I don't think that's necessary," the first goon said. "We believe we've found the individual responsible for defeating F.O.W.L at the warehouse."

I was suddenly the focus of attention as the new goons all stared at me.

"Er...Nice to meet you guys," I said. Okay, it was lame, but it was the first thing to pop in my head.

"The description checks out," one of them said.

"The voice checks out, too," the other guard said. "Yes, I think this is the same guy."

"Hold on," I interrupted. "How do you know what happened last night? It wasn't in the papers"

"Mister Duck, the warehouse had a live feed to SHUSH H.Q because that agentyou saved was in the process of a report when the incident occured. The whole thing was caught on live camera. In order to keep the integrity of our company intact, the incident was covered up by SHUSH, which is why the media didn't report it."

"Er...You're saying I was on live TV? I didn't look too bad, did I?"

"You looked good enough that our director wishes to discuss the incident with you. He'll be here, soon. His orders were to have you wait inside the meeting room until he has a chance to have that discussion."

"Orders?" I spluttered indignantly, then I remembered that I was going to try and take down this syndicate's head honcho. This was the perfect chance!

"Sure, I'm great at following orders," I told the goons, and walked into the meetingroom. I saw the door close behind me. This was getting better all the time! Now, I just had to get ready to give the "Director" a proper greeting. The meetingroom, as was typical of meetingrooms, had about a dozen or so chairs surrounding one large table. I grabbed the nearest chair, hid behind the door, and got ready to bash the first person to come in's head in.

About a minute or two later, the door did open. I took my chance, and swung the chair. It broke on something hard with a satisfying "Snap!" I didn't get much of a chance to gloat, though, as a big hand closed on my neck.

My assailant was a real "Bear" of a guy. Big, tough, and now very angry.

"I am telling him that this was a bad idea," he growled in a thick Eastern European accent. "Duck with silly costume is not needed to beat F.O.W.L., he is not even good enough for children's partings!"

"Don't you mean_ 'Parties?' _I retorted, as I began reaching for my gas gun.

"'_Partings_', '_Parties_,' your language is so confusing! But, that is not the thing we are talking about. SHUSH has no need for hooly-gans like you to stop F.O.W.L. Attacking with no provocation when you were told we meant no harm? You are not a hero, you are a backstabber!"

"Yeah?" I said, "Well, let me show you how I attack from the front!"

I brought the gas gun up to his face and fired. Fortunately for the bad tempered brute, it only had smokescreen. Still, it had the effect of making him drop me. I bounced a few feet, then sprang up in a karate pose.

"All right, big guy...You and your mafia goons are going down!"

He snorted. "Mafia? Ha! SHUSH took care of the Mafia ages ago. They are lucky they only went to jail. You on the other hang...You will being lucky to be in pieces when I am finished with you!"

And then we got into what could only be called a fist-flying, leg-kicking, dust-clouding brawl.

"What is the meaning of this?" A new voice yelled over the din. "Agent Grizzlikov, stop this at once!

That apparently reached my opponent. He paused one last time to belt me in the stomach, sending me flying into the wall, then snapped to attention. I looked up from peeling myself off the wall to see who the newcomer was. He was this really short old guy, I guessed a few inches shorter than me, although I doubted he would appreciate me saying that out loud. What was really important was that he outranked mister "Tall, dark, and outraged." So, this was the guy in charge of the syndicate, then? Well, the fact that his hired muscle was there made handing him over to the cops a lot harder. I decided to just play along with their plans...for now.

"Sir, I must apologizing for my behavior," the big palooka said, "But that...That insulting duck ambushed me as I was walking through the door."

"You weren't supposed to be here in the first place, Agent Grizzlikov. I wanted this meeting to be private," the little old man responded.

"But, sir, the backstabber hit me in the head with one of those chairs. That could have been you, had I not been the first to arrive."

"And did he say why he hit you in the head?"

I was too busy finishing the act of peeling myself from the wall to answer, so my erstwhile opponent did.

"He is saying we are the Mafia, but you know that is not true. We stopped them years ago. I say he should be..."

"The Mafia? I don't know why...Oh! I understand now." The old man turned to me. "The agents who brought you here didn't tell you anything, did they?"

"_No_!" I bellowed, feeling slightly relieved to actually get this off my chest. "No one told me _anything! _They just yanked me away from my patrol, told me the boss wanted to see me, and wouldn't as much as utter a hint as to who you people are! How was I supposed to know who you were? For all I know, you're some kind of Mafia-style syndicate trying to hire me as a tool against some rival syndicate! Who _are _you people, anyways?! What the heck _is _this group?! What do you want from me?

"Darkwing, allow me to explain," the old guy said. "SHUSH is actually one of the top intelligence-gathering agencies in the world. The reason you haven't heard of us before is that our operations are nearly all top secret. Our agents are conditioned to not divulge any of our secrets, which is why they left you in the dark. I must remember to commend those agents that brought you," he continued as he fiddled with his glasses. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am J. Gander Hooter, director of the Eastern branch of SHUSH, and Isee you've already met Agent Vlad Grizzlikov, my second in command."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "Nice to meet you and all that. But it still doesn't explain why you need me so badly, you were willing to kidnap me off the streets."

"Ah, I'm afraid that it is a long story. Sit down, Darkwing, and I'll show you." The old man pulled a remote out of his jacket and pressed a button. Instantly, a projector sprang out of the floor where I'd been standing a moment before, and the wall facing the projector suddenly turned to reveal a projection screen.

"SHUSH was created to gather whatever intelligence it could on any groups that posed a threat to the general populace of the world," the old man explained. "But several groups have kept one step ahead of us, and will not be broken easily. One in particular has been our biggest nemesis for over a decade. It all started when a group of hired mercenaries grew tired of being pushed around by the bigger syndicates and some of the more tyrannous world leaders. They decided to form their own group. They started out by cornering the black market. They would steal various items which were very much desired from the larger groups, often leaving incriminating evidence against another group. Then they would sell the items to the highest bidder. This was how the group got their name, the Fiendish Orginization for World Larceny, or F.O.W.L. for short."

The projector was now showing what was evidently the F.O.W.L. logo.

"The group started out small," the old guy continued. "But their goal of standing up to the big groups gave them a certain appeal among the other small groups. Thus F.O.W.L. grew. The group was carefully monitored by SHUSH, however the directors at the time decided that F.O.W.L posed little threat to ordinary people, and didn't break them up. I fear we may be paying the price for that soon. F.O.W.L. has begun to expand their scope, and has made several attempts at what might only be called hostile takeovers."

"Wait a minute," I said, "You're trying to tell me that those spandex-y scumbuckets at the warehouse last night were part of some worldwide criminal cartel? Those guys were dressed like wannabe space clowns!"

"Speaking for yourself," the big second-in-command guy said very softly. I glared at him.

"Those were F.O.W.L.'s henchman, also called Eggmen." The old guy told me. The projector now showed a picture of one of them, tacky suit and all.

"Eggmen are the lowest of F.O.W.L.'s ranks. They are a dime a dozen, as the saying goes, however they are the least of F.O.W.L.'s threats."

The screen now showed a different guy, a smooth-looking fellow in a snappy white suit. This guy looked like he probably thought he was a ladies' man. Beyond that, the only thing out of ordinary was that the guy's beak looked like it was made of metal.

"This is one of F.O.W.L.'s top agents, Steelbeak," the old guy said. "Whenever he is in town, it's usually a good indication that F.O.W.L. is up to something. We have had several reports that Steelbeak has been seen in St. Canard. Over the last few weeks, F.O.W.L. has made several attempts to steal SHUSH technology, mostly our research into bio-chemistry. Going by what has been stolen, and what we know of their plans, I believe that F.O.W.L. is trying to create something airborne, like a germ. If they should succeed, they may very well be unstoppable. You, Darkwing Duck are the key to our problem.

"Me?"

"Yes. You see, SHUSH is one of the foremost intelligence agencies in the world, however that has one major disadvantage. All of our enemies know us, in fact, F.O.W.L. knows us far too well. In order to effectively thwart F.O.W.L., we need a new face, one they don't know, whose methods are not like ours. We're prepared to pay you top dollar for your assistance in stopping F.O.W.L., and capturing Steelbeak."

"Er...Did I just hear you right," I asked in what was probably a lame voice. "You're a big spy agency that's having trouble with a big group of supervillians, and you want my help? You're even prepared to pay me...A lot..." I cleared my throat. "Of course, this is a big decision for me, but if you're willing to pay me for this..."

"Bah!" The big guy snorted. "Money! That is all that fool cares about. We pay him enough, he is going and sells his services to F.O.W.L. A backstabber through and through! SHUSH can handle F.O.W.L., like it always has!"

"Agent Grizzlikov, that is enough!" The old guy said.

"Yeah, it sure is," I agreed. "I ain't working for a company with unappreciative guys like him. Frankly, I'm not entirely convinced that this is a spy agency, and not some evil syndicate. Besides, I'm not a corporate kind of guy. Darkwing Duck, like the hand of justice, works independently. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a city to watch over."

"I had hoped you would at least consider joining forces with us, Darkwing," the old guy told me as I turned away. "I also hope you'll change your mind before it is too late. I believe that F.O.W.L. is too big a threat for either of us to stop alone."

"Yeah, well I'll stop them when I see them doing wrong," I said, and slammed the door behind me.

It took me about an hour to find Launchpad. I finally spotted the Ratcatcher parked over by the sidewalk by Sabine Park, and Launchpad himself at a nearby pay phone.

"Hey, D.W, you wouldn't happen to have a quarter on you?" He asked as I approached.

"A quarter? Launchpad, What are you doing?"

"Trying to call the cops so I can tell them you were kidn...apped..." He suddenly turned to actually look at me.

"D.W., you're okay!" He whooped happily.

"Well of _course_, I'm okay," I retorted irritably. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Yeah! What happened, anyways? I was too busy trying to stop the Ratcatcher to see where that limo went."

"Some intelligence agency. They want me to help them stop some evil agency, but I'm not entirely convinced I want to. I've never heard of either of these groups. You'd think a crimefighter like me would know all about them."

"Well, I did some work for an intelligence agency once," he said. "It was kinda confusing, though. They hired me because I looked like some F.O.W.L. guy..."

"F.O.W.L.?! That was the group they wanted me to stop! What did you do?"

"Er...Flew around a lot, and spent most of the time trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing."

"Yeah, that sounds like you all right," I sighed. "Well, let's get home. There's a lovely warm bed that's calling my name."

The next day, I really wanted to sleep in, but since I'd turned up the alarm on Gosalyn's clock-radio up to wake her up for school, I instead found myself waking up a lot earlier than I'd anticipated. Why is it that the plans that look so good in my head always end up coming back to haunt me?

"Morning, D.W.," Launchpad said cheerfully as I entered the kitchen. He's one of those people that are always wide awake in the morning...Unlike me.

"Guhhh," I croaked eloquently. "Coffee...where's coffee?"

I hate waking up that early. My brain always takes so long to start up during that time of day.

"It's right over by the sink," Launchpad told me.

"Coffeeeeee," I yawned, and staggered over in that direction. As the coffee took effect and my brain booted up, I realized that something was missing.

"Where's Gosalyn?"

"Er...I think she's still in bed."

"Figures. I'd better go try and get her up." Still holding my coffee, I went up the stairs and knocked on my daughter's bedroom door.

"C'mon, Gos. You have school today. Get up, already! Hmm, I think I'm going to have to be stricter with that kid's bedtime...Maybe make it 7:30 instead of 8."

I slouched back downstairs and began making breakfast. It wasn't until the pancakes were done that I realized that Gos still hadn't come downstairs.

"Oh, that kid and her midnight horror marathons...I'm going to go up and..."

"Morning, Gos!" Launchpad said.

I turned. The kid was out of bed, but I don't think she'd taken the time to wake up. She was still in her pajamas, and her hair was down, which was kinda unusual. She hardly ever left her hair down, because she hated when her hair got in her face.

"Dad, I don't feel good," she said softly.

"Gos, don't tell me you're trying this again," I sighed. "Hurry up and eat your breakfast, the bus will be coming soon."

I sat down at the table and plonked a plate of pancakes in front of her. Normally, she'd have slathered a ton of syrup over the pancakes and eaten them in one gulp, but today she barely even picked at the pancakes. She didn't even touch the syrup.

"Gosalyn Mallard, get moving and eat your breakfast already," I told her.

"I'm not hungry," she croaked.

"Not hungry?! Gos, you love pancakes!"

"I told you, I don't feel good," Gos said in that same soft voice as she pushed the pancakes out of the way and put her head down on the table.

"Hey, D.W.," Launchpad remarked. "It may just be me, but I think Gos might really be sick."

"What?! Aw, Launchpad, she says this every week. Here, I'll show you. All I have to do is tell her I'm getting the thermometer, and suddenly she'll be right as rain."

"Sure, Dad...Go ahead."

"You wha...?" I began. Gos never acted like that. Come to think of it, in all the weeks I'd known her, I'd never seen her like this. She was acting...Listless. Quiet. Almost like all the spirit she'd had since I'd met her was completely gone. I got up and moved around the table to her side.

"Gos?" I asked her quietly. "You're really sick, aren't you?" I gently pushed her hair back from her face, and pressed my palm against her forehead. She felt hot...Burning hot, in fact. My hand felt like it was on fire.

"Yow!" I yelped, jumping back and shoving my hand into the sink. "Okay, you're really sick. You'd better get back to bed."

"Mmmph," she said, and tottered off. Meanwhile, I attempted to recall where I'd put that child care book. I could sure use it now.

"What're we gonna do, D.W?" Launchpad sounded pretty nervous, I noted. "I have no clue what to do in times like these...Should I fly her to the hospital or something?"

"For the love of...Will you stop overreacting?" I snapped irritably. "Look, why don't you go over to the drug store and pick up some children's asprin?"

"Y-you got it, D.W," Launchpad said very quickly, as he started to head out.

"And don't rush it, okay?!" I yelled at his retreating back. "She's only sick, not dying..."

The door slammed behind him.

"Typical," I grumbled. I heaved a huge sigh, and began looking for that child care book, as well as the phone book. Well, I didn't know the number to Gos' school offhand yet.

By the time I convinced the stubborn seceretary at school that yes, Gosalyn Mallard was sick, yes I was sure, yes, I was _really_ sure this time, and no, I had _not_ been bribed into saying this, what kind of father did that secretary think I was?! Launchpad had come back with the children's asprin. Once we'd gotten some asprin into my darling daughter, there was nothing else to do but sit around the kitchen and hope that whatever Gos had, it wouldn't turn out to be that bad. Meanwhile, I found the book on child care and looked through its' section on sickness.

"Let's see..." I read aloud. "'If your child is running a fever, the first thing you must do is keep them in bed'...We've already done that...'Next, give your child a dose of children's asprin to keep the fever down. Make sure that the outside of the box says children on it, because normal asprin is too strong for children'...We've done that, too...'Keep your child in bed, checking in on them about every hour or so. Most fevers last about a day, but if you have any questions or concerns, it is recommended that you bring your child to a professional doctor.' I don't think her fever's that bad, yet. We'll just have to wait and see...'Give your child plenty of fluids to drink. A fever drains your child of fluids, and they need to replenish...' I haven't done that, yet. I probably should."

"Do you think this is serious, D.W.? Launchpad asked. "I mean, you know I don't know a lot about things like this, but it could be bad news."

"I'm not an expert, either. I'm just doing what the book says..." I stopped,as I suddenly thought of something. That old guy from last night had said something about the guys they were after, what was it...? That they might be working on some sort of airborne virus. What if they'd succeeded, and Gos was their first victim...?

I was just about to panic, when I thought of a flaw in that theory. If this was a world-wide terror group, then why would they target a single child? If I were a group like that, I'd infect a whole class, or better yet a whole school. No, this probably wasn't what that old man had been talking about. The only reason I could think of for that type of group to make Gos sick was if they'd figured out my secret identity, which was practically impossible, right?

Besides, who was to say it was this F.O.W.L. group, anyways? For all I knew, it was the other group, SHUSH. Then again, I thought as I looked down at the child care book lying on the table, for all I knew, my imagination was getting out of control, and Gos was just plain sick.

"All right," I said. "How about this, we'll wait until sometime in the afternoon, then if Gos' temperature hasn't gone down we'll take her to the hospital."

"You got it, D.W," Launchpad agreed.

"Meanwhile, I guess I'll go and make her some soup," I finished.

Gos' room was unusually quiet, which was another sign of how sick she was. On any other day, she'd have the radio blaring that annoying rock music she liked at top volume. Now however, the room was as quiet as, and as still as, a tomb.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Gos? Honey, are you awake?"

"Mmph...Dad?"

"Yeah, it's me. I thought you might need some of this." I put the bowl of soup down on her nightstand. She opened her eyes long enough to take a peek at the soup, then closed them again.

"I don't think I can eat that now. I'm feeling crummy, and my head hurts."

"But, that child care book said that soup was good for sick people," I protested.

"Yeah, and you always say that brussels sprouts are good for you, but I never see you eating them."

"Grr," I growled exasperatedly. "Don't give me that attitude, young lady! I'm only doing what the book says because I have no clue what to do! I've only known you for a few weeks, so naturally I know nothing about raising a kid. I'm trying to be a good father, not some kind of tyrant...I guess this isn't going to be as easy as the book made it out to be..." I suddenly got an idea. Maybe if I asked her about what her grandfather did when she was sick, then it would give me a better idea of what to do.

"Hey, can you remember what your grandfather did when you were sick?"

Gos opened her eyes and flashed a wan smile. "The same thing you're doing. Tried to fill me up with soup every chance he got."

That answer caught me by complete surprise. Her grandfather had done the same things that I did? Well, I guess we had one thing in common. Either that, or we both read the same child care books.

"Oh...Er...Uh..." I stammered, taken aback.

"Of course, he wasn't a great cook," she continued. "And, as much as I hate to admit it, you make better pancakes than he did...I guess I'll try some of that soup."

"Thanks, Gos." I said.

While she ate, I attempted to fill her ears with tales of my heroic deeds. By that point, however, she'd known me long enough to read between the lines and would occasionally bust my bubble.

"...I tell ya, that guy put up a real good fight, and almost had me for a few minutes, but then he made a fatal error that cost him the fight..."

"Let me guess...He insulted your hat?"

I cringed. "Er...Yeah, that's exactly what happened."

She put her mostly finished bowl of soup back down on the table.

"Dad, I feel kinda tired. I think I should lie down now."

"Okay, honey," I told her. "I'll just stay with you for a while longer."

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered, and closed her eyes. She was asleep in minutes.

I stayed at her side for a good half-hour or so, then I made sure to check in on her at least once an hour. To my despair, her temperature didn't go down, as a matter of fact it went up a degree or two. Finally, around 4 O'clock, I checked in on her to find that she was horribly pale, and covered in sweat. That's when I made the decision.

"Better go start the car," I said to Launchpad. "We're going to take Gos to the hospital."

It didn't take us too long to bundle a still-sleeping Gosalyn up in some blankets, then into the car. I told Launchpad to sit in the back with her, in case anything went wrong, while I drove. The nearest hospital, Gadwall Memorial, was a good 20 minutes drive away. About five minutes away from the hospital, I was surprised to see a lot of traffic. Almost like there had been an accident up ahead, or something.

"Aw, for the love of..." I growled, and pulled into a nearby parking garage. "It'll take us hours to get through this traffic," I complained. "We're close enough that we can walk."

Gos really didn't look good as I opened the door to the back seat and picked her up.

"C'mon, honey. I'm taking you to a doctor," I explained.

"Mmph," she croaked. She was barely awake, I noticed.

As I said, there was a huge load of traffic backed up along the street that Gadwall Memorial was on. It only got worse as we got closer, making me thankful that I'd chosen to walk the rest of the way.

"Gee, D.W." Launchpad remarked. "The last time I saw traffic this bad was when they held that 'Wizards and Warlocks' gaming convention...'Course, all the traffic was going the other way."

"Hmm," I said, scanning the cars. "It doesn't look like any of these people are sick, so I don't think that there's an epidemic going on. So much for that theory...But I really have no clue what's up with this traffic."

As we came around the corner, we could finally see what was causing the traffic. Gadwall Memorial was a fairly large building, with an equally large parking lot, but the hospital was cordoned off by a police barricade. A traffic cop was trying to direct traffic past the building, and not let any cars into the parking lot, but he wasn't having much sucess, since most of the people in the cars going past him stopped to either ask what was going on or to argue with him.

"This is getting weirder by the minute," I said. "Did something happen at the hospital?"

My crime-fighting instincts told me that now would be an excellent time for Darkwing Duck to begin investigating, but since Gos was sick, I decided to supress the super-heroics until a doctor had seen her. I walked up to the nearest police officer.

"Excuse me, but what's going on? And is there a doctor I can see? My daughter's sick."

"I'm sorry, sir." the cop told me. "You have to go somewhere else, the hospital's closed."

"What?!" I yelled. "What do you mean the hospital's closed?!"

"Just what I said," the cop replied. "I guess there was something in the air this morning. Every doctor and patient in Gadwall suddenly came down with allergy-like symptoms. Coughing, hives, you name it. We evacuated everyone inside, they're all recovering at Harlequin Hospital, but they're swamped with people right now, you'd have to wait at least a week before you can find a free doctor."

I turned to Launchpad. "Here, can you take Gos for a minute?"

"Er...No problemo."

I handed my still-sleeping daughter over to him, then I turned back to the cop, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him down to eye level.

"Are you trying to tell me that there isn't a non-busy, healthy doctor to be found in this city?! My daughter is sick, man! I need to find a doctor for her as soon as it is humanly possible, we can't wait a week!"

"Sorry, sir. We can't even find out what's making them sick..."

I tightened my grip on the guy's collar. "What do you mean by that?"

"We tried to enter the building with hazzard material suits!" The unfortunate cop babbled quickly. "But something weird's going on. The building's layout suddenly changed. I don't know how, but it's become like a maze in there. What's worse is that there are all kinds of horrible traps in there, it's almost like someone's trying to keep us out!"

"What?" I repeated. "Changed? How do you change a hospital?"

"I don't know, sir...But it's nothing like it used to be. You shouldn't go inside."

"I'll be the judge of that," I told him.

"B-b-but, sir! Those traps inside are dangerous! You could get killed!"

"Danger, shmanger. All I have to do is..."

"We're not letting you in, citizen," another cop said as he strode over. I saw two or three other cops behind him. "While we appreciate your offer, I seriously recommend you let us do our job."

With several cops staring at me grimly, I had no choice.

"All right, all right. I'll admit that Drake Mallard isn't exactly the type to do dangerous things, so I'll just wait and hope that my daughter gets better, like any normal person." I said.

"...But, Darkwing Duck isn't any normal person," I told Launchpad as we arrived at the car a half-hour later. "Darkwing Duck is the sort of guy that gets dangerous and does heroic things. L.P., do you think you can stay here with Gos? I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and while I'm at it to try and find a doctor to look at Gos."

"Are you sure, D.W.?" Launchpad asked. "I mean, Gos is your daughter, and I think it might be a better idea if you stay with her..."

"Launchpad, someone needs to find out what's going on. What's more, with all due respect, you're only a sidekick. I'm the hero here. Besides, you don't have a trendy costume that will keep you from being recognized."

And with that, I grabbed my spare Darkwing outfit from the car, and turned to go, only to almost get myself squished by another car which was turning to park.

"Hey, watch it!" I yelled, quickly moving my disguise behind my back.

The car's door opened, and a fairly indignant woman in a lab coat jumped out.

"Geez, the traffic out there is a killer! How do they expect me to get to work on time?!" She complained.

"Where do you work, the hospital?" Launchpad asked. I didn't stick around to hear the woman's response. I was too busy trying to find a nice hidden place so that I could change.

It was actually fairly easy to sneak past the guards guarding Gadwall, because it was getting dark. And then I found myself at the entrance of Gadwall Memorial Hospital, peering down a long corridor.

"All right," I said. "Let's get dangerous."

In spite of the fact that the place was now an ominous labyrinth, I had no trouble seeing. The persons who had done all this had conveniently placed small lights in the walls every few feet.

"How nice of them," I said.

As I started walking down the tunnel, I couldn't help noticing that the tunnel gently sloped down into the ground. After walking for about a minute or two, I came to a place where the tunnel I was going through intersected with another, in a kind of four-way intersection. After thinking about it for a few seconds, I decided to try the path to my right.

About two minutes down that tunnel, I stepped on something. Looking down, I saw that it was apparently a pressure pad of some sort.

"What's this?" I asked. Then I heard a sound. It sounded exactly like the sound of a giant boulder rolling towards me, at a fairly decent clip. I looked up to see, you guessed it, a giant boulder rolling right at me. Needless to say, it flattened me before I had a chance to get out of the way.

"Why can't I be sharp instead of flat?" I croaked glaring at the place where the boulder had come from. Now, I could see that the tunnel ended in a deadly combination of boulder release mechanism, and dead end. I sighed, and began working on bending myself back into shape. Just as I suceeded in getting myself back to normal, the shock of having actual weight again sent me staggering back a step or two...

And my foot landed on the pressure pad again...

And the trap went off again.

"Yow!" I yelped, and turned to begin running back up the tunnel, just ahead of the next boulder. When I came back to the intersection, I took a right turn and went up the middle tunnel. The boulder rolled harmlessly off to the other tunnel, the one that was on the left when I had come in.

"Whew," I gasped, now thoroughly relieved. "The cunning villian that set up those traps may have far too much time and money on his hands, but he's still no match for Darkwing Duck!"

I turned to look down the tunnel I had just entered.

"And so the daring do-gooder contemplated what hideous terrors awaited him in the next tunnel...Meh, whatever."

Just as I began walking down the tunnel, the lights went out. Looking back, I could see that the rest of the tunnels still had lights. I felt my way to the nearest wall and kept going down the tunnel. About a minute later, the lights suddenly came back on again. I blinked, then looked down.

I was now standing on a kind of wide diving board, suspended over a small pool. I saw several alligators looking hungrily up at me from the pool, and just to emphasize the point, one of them began climbing out of water, licking its lips...

"Yaaah!" I yelled, and turned and quickly ran out of there. As I ran, I noticed that the lights in the tunnel went out again, but since I could see the lights at the end of the tunnel, I didn't need to look where I was going. When I reached the end of the tunnel, the lights came on again. I turned, but I couldn't see any sign of alligators or pools. I was safe. I staggered to one side of the tunnel to collapse from exhaustion.

"This could be tougher than I thought," I gasped.

So, two tunnels had traps in 'em, what about the third one? Once I'd gotten my breath back, I headed for the third tunnel, the one to the left of the entrance.

This one lead to a dead end after about a minute of walking.

"Great," I muttered. Then I noticed that there was an awful lot of pulverized gravel on the floor, as if someone had taken a giant boulder and blown it up...A boulder just like one of the ones from the trap I'd first encountered..

That's when I saw the laser in the wall.

"Oh, this is going to hurt..." I said.

One extremely painful "Fzzap" later, I pulled my slightly crispier self out of the tunnel. Okay, three tunnels, three traps, now I had to figure out what to do next. Thinking about it, I didn't remember seeing a dead end in the tunnel with the alligator trap, while the other two had both ended up going nowhere. That was probably the key, then.

I returned to the Alligator tunnel, but this time I inched my way down the tunnel, slowly. After a couple of minutes of inching, the lights went out again. I took a step back, and the lights turned on again. Well, that was an interesting development. I looked down and saw a weird lens-like object in the wall, that was emmitting a strange sort of laser, it was almost invisible if you didn't know what you were looking for.

"Of course," I realized. "It's a tripwire...Of some sort. That sure clears things up a bit."

Looking ahead, I could see a similar lens in the wall up ahead. That must've been what opened the alligator pit. So, all I had to do to get by this trap was jump over both the lasers.

"Ha! An easy feat for a dextrous do-gooder like myself!"

Well it was. I easily hopped over both lasers without triggering either the lights or the alligator pit.

"Yup-yup-yup, I've still got it."

I continued down the tunnel only to find out that it lead to another intersection.

"Aw, perfect," I growled. "And I suppose the genius that designed this twisted death trap of a labyrinth is sitting on an easy chair somewhere laughing his face off at my antics. Well, it'll take more than a few deadly traps to stop Darkwing Duck!"

Two hours later, I considered myself stopped. I had been shot at, fried, squished, and stuck in that booby-trapped labyrinth, which was getting to be too much for even my vaunted stamina. Somehow, I found my way back to the entrance, only to run into a lot of guns aimed right at my face.

"What the...Now what?!" I spluttered irritably.

"At ease, agents," a familiar voice rang out. "He isn't with F.O.W.L."

The guns and the people who held them, who I recognized as some of the men in black that worked for that intelligence company, SHUSH, backed off, and I found myself staring at that little old guy, what was his name again? Horter? No, Hooter, that was it.

"Darkwing, I had a hunch that you would be here," that Hooter guy continued. "I fear that F.O.W.L. has already put its' plan into action. This is a very grave matter."

"Gee, you think?" I said sarcastically. He apparently ignored the insult, either that or it just went over his head.

"We know that F.O.W.L. is trying to create some sort of airborne germ or allergen, but we don't know what the specifics are, which is very alarming indeed. In situations like these, SHUSH needs all the help it can get. Darkwing, I would like your assistance finding out what F.O.W.L.'s plan is and stopping them."

"Wait a minute," I snapped. "That maze is impossible to get through. I've tripped so many traps, it'll make your head spin. I still have the singe marks from that flamethrower...How do you SHUSH people plan on getting through that insane labyrinth?!"

"You're forgetting that SHUSH is one of the world's top intelligence agencies, Darkwing...And SHUSH doesn't always use human agents to do its' work."

He pointed at the agents behing him, who were setting up all kinds of technical equipment. Computer monitors, antennas, you name it. One agent opened up a crate and began pulling out what looked like minature robots with little cameras for faces.

"Whoa," I said.

"These hovercams can navigate F.O.W.L.'s labyrinth," Hooter told me. "They will provide us with valuable information about which tunnels go where, and where the traps are. This should aid us in finding where their center of command is, and then we can stop their plans more effectively. There is one problem, and that is who the one to navigate the maze when we're finished mapping it...I would like you to do that, Darkwing Duck."

"What?! Hey, didn't I already tell you I was done with mazes? Besides, aren't you guys more suited for this than I am?"

"As I've said before," Hooter replied calmly. "F.O.W.L. knows our procedures far too well. Your strength seems to be unpredictability, something that F.O.W.L. will certainly not be expecting. I have a feeling that they will underestimate you, which will be their undoing. What's more, you have said that you went through a fair number of their traps and still lived to tell the tale. If it were any ordinary person, they would've died. Darkwing, at least consider taking the job."

"Yeah, uh...I'll think about it," I said.

"The Lab techs have informed me that it will take about two hours to fully mapout the maze, so I need to hear your answer by then."

"Two hours?" I asked. "Okay, I'll let you know."

And I turned and began heading back to the parking garage.

"What should I do?" I wondered out loud, once they were out of earshot. "I mean, it's not like those SHUSH guys seem to be bad guys like I thought they were, but still...Something about this whole thing just rubs me the wrong way. I'm Darkwing Duck, for crying out loud! I work alone...Except for my sidekick, of course..."

Then it hit me.

"...Oh, no! Launchpad! Gosalyn! I gotta get back, quick! I'm coming, guys!"

I ran all the rest of the way back to the parking garage, pausing only to switch identities. Just as I sped around the final corner, a car pulled out. As fast as I was going, I'm lucky I didn't get flattened by it. The car swerved around me, then pulled to a stop about ten feet away.

"What kind of crazy idiot do you think you are?" The driver demanded in a female voice. "Hey, wait a minute, you're that guy I almost hit earlier, too! You should watch where you're going."

"Sorry, miss," I gasped. "I have to take care of my daughter..."

"Oh, you must be Gosalyn's father. They said you were out looking for a doctor for her, right?"

"Er...Yeah, I was."

"Too bad you took off just as I got there. I'm a pediatrician over at Gadwall, but since I live all the way on the other side of town, I didn't know what happened until I met your family."

"Wait, you're a doctor?!" I couldn't believe it. There'd been a doctor there all along, and if I'd known that...

"Yup, Dr. Psitticula Kramer. Don't worry, your daughter's just fine. I gave her some more asprin, and her fever's gone down. If I were you, I'd put her right to bed...Although that may be a bit of a problem...She was getting a little restless."

"Oh, she always is," I laughed weakly. Gos was all right! She would be just fine. I was so relieved.

"I gotta thank you, Dr. Kramer," I said. "For staying with them, even though you probably had things you needed to do."

"Don't worry, your kid's a real charmer. My mom always said that loud people always get heard...although that may be as much of a blessing as a curse."

We both laughed for a minute, then I heard the unmistakable sound of my car's horn honking.

"Dad, what're you standing there for?! C'mon, let's go!"

"Coming, honey," I sighed. "Goodnight, Dr. Kramer, and thanks again!"

And I turned to my car...And my family.

Once we were home, it was a bit of an uphill battle to convince Gosalyn that she was still sick, and since sick people need to stay in bed...Well, you get the picture. Actually, the fight to get her in bed for the night wasn't as bad as it usually was. It only took twenty minutes, which was proof that she wasn't quite back up to full strength.

And once that was done, I had to face the even knottier problem of what to do about those SHUSH people. I decided to ask for advice. Launchpad was the obvious candidate, but when I poked my head into his room, I saw him sprawled on his bed, fast asleep. Well, he'd probably had a long day, and I really didn't have the heart to wake him up again. So much for asking him...Then, who could I turn to for advice?

"Gos, you still awake? I need to talk to you." I told Gosalyn a couple of minutes later.

"Well, it's gotta be pretty serious if you decided to talk to me, Mr. 'Sick people need their rest.'" She griped as she sat up. "Why didn't you ask Launchpad?"

"I tried, but he's already asleep," I replied. "He must've fallen asleep while we were arguing earlier. Look, something's come up and I really don't know what to do about it."

She listened to me while I told her everything that had happened during the last two nights. When I finished, she rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"So, let me get this straight...A big spy agency wants your help to stop a majorly evil organization from taking over the world, they've fought the bad guys before, they know the bad guys pretty well, they're doing all the work to scope out the bad guys' base, they're even offering to pay you, and you're not sure if you want to work with them, right?"

"Er...Yeah," I said awkwardly.

"Dad, are you nuts?! You're the one who's always whining about wanting supervillians to fight, now here's your chance. Besides, they're offering to pay you. We need that money, you know."

"Yeah, maybe...But, that one agent guy called me a greedy backstabber..."

"Yes, I know you're greedy, but we really need that money. I'm not stupid, Dad. You've been working to hide it from me, and to keep us all happy and all, but I heard you talking your parents on the phone last week."

I stared at her totally shocked. I'd actually broken down and asked my parents for money last week...If I had any clue that Gosalyn had been able to overhear...So much for keeping it a secret!

"Okay, okay, I get the message," I conceded. "I'll go help those SHUSH guys out."

"Oh, good. Then when you're done with that we can talk about that allowance you owe me."

I glared pointedly at her. Gos took the hint and stopped talking.

"And while I do this, you have to get some sleep," I told her. "I know you're feeling better now, but I just want to make sure you get some rest."

"Yeah, sure," Gos sighed. "Go get 'em, Dad."

She curled up on the bed again and was asleep in about a minute. And snoring.

"I guess she really was tired after all," I said pulling the blanket over her shoulders. "Good night, Gos."

By the time I'd changed and gotten over to the hospital, the two hours were nearly up.

"Darkwing, you're back." That Hooter guy said. "Have you made up your mind yet?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm helping you guys out...But, don't think for a minute that I'm doing this more than once..."

"Excellent, Darkwing! I appreciate your effort in this crisis. Now, thanks to the SHUSH Labs, we have mapped most of the maze, the only part the hovercams haven't been able to get to is the part where F.O.W.L. most likely has their center of command. That part has Eggmen for guards, and therefore isn't likely to have any traps."

"Okay, I got it," I told him. "So, where do I get a map?"

At Hooter's gesture, a scientist came over with a plastic sheet. I glanced at it, and recognized some of the traps I'd been through.

"Huh, those F.O.W.L. guys designed one twisted maze," I remarked. "But Darkwing Duck has the advantage of a twisted mind...And now a good map. Fear not, you SHUSH people, I'll get through that maze and bring the guys that made it to justice!"

"Those SHUSH guys make good maps," I said to myself a half-hour later. Not only was every twist and turn in the maze mapped out, but they also had detailed descriptions of the traps, how each trap was triggered, and what must be done to get by them. They'd also included the positions of the Eggmen guards and security cameras that their robots had encountered near the end. I paused to take my bearings from the map.

"Let's see...I got through the exploding nitro trap there, and that angry weasel trap there...Hmm, that means that I should be encountering a couple of guards soon..."

And sure enough, I peered around the corner to see the two guards. According to the map, there was also a security camera behind them, too. This meant that I was at the end of the mapped part of the structure, so from this point I was on my own. Well, I certainly wasn't helpless without SHUSH's help. I grabbed a smoke bomb from my cape and flung it at the guards. The smoke effectively blinded both the guards, so it was child's play to knock them out. The one downside was that the smoke would alert anyone who was watching the security camera, but on the bright side, they wouldn't be able to see what I looked like with the smoke.

Once I got past the guards, I ran down the hall, and into what must've been part of the original hospital. Good, that meant that their center of command couldn't be too far away. This was a perfect time to get ready for a great entrance, one that would impress the enemy. I peered around the corner of the first room that I came to. It looked like an ordinary kitchen. I couldn't see any sign of traps. As a matter of fact, judging by the fact that there were several Eggmen-style helmets scattered around the place, I guessed that

the enemy had been using this place for...Well...A coffee break. I walked over to the nearest table and began pulling out my inventory to prepare for battle.

"Let's see...Gas gun, Tear gas, grappling hook, itching powder, first-aid kit,hair gel, mirror, teeth whitener, eight-by-ten glossies, signing pens...Where's the smoke bombs?! Aw, don't tell me I just used my last smoke bomb?! Now how am I supposed to make a flashy entrance?"

And then I saw the bag of flour in one of the open cabinets.

"Well, I suppose I could use that," I said. "It's not exactly dark, moody, or trademarked, but I can't make much of a flashy entrance without some kind of smoke."

I grabbed the bag of flour and took it with me. As I sneaked through the deserted halls of the hospital, I found myself sneaking by an increasing number of Eggmen patrols. Then, I arrived at what was probably a security room. Glancing in, I could see a lot of monitors, probably one for each security camera. Someone was sitting in a chair, watching the monitors. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear him talking over a phone.

"So, you couldn't see what that guy looked like? Meh, maybe he'll make it here, I could use some real entertainment." The guy laughed, then..."What? You think SHUSH is up to something? Of _course_ they are. They're not stupid, just very very thorough...And predictable." Another pause. "What about that costumed weirdo who was trying earlier, you ask? Nah, I don't think any weirdoes are getting by our traps..."

I decided to prove him wrong, then and there. Grabbing my improvised smoke bomb, I tossed it in the doorway.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night..."

"Oops," my opponent said, "Looks like something entertaining just turned up. I'll catch ya later."

"...I am the splinter that requires a tetanus shot...I am Darkwing Duck!"

"Well, lookie here," the fellow in the chair remarked as he shifted his chair around, "Looks like we got us an ug-a-lee duckling."

He looked exactly like that one F.O.W.L. guy that the SHUSH people had said was in the city. So, this was Steelbeak, then. In person, he reminded me of a cross between a Derek Blunt villian and a mafia Don. If he had a theme, it would probably be some smooth jazz-like tune.

I suddenly felt something tickle my nostrils, making me sneeze. Looking down, I realized that I was covered in flour, which totally ruined my dramatic look. So much for using flour to make an entrance ever again!

"Y'know something," Steelbeak continued. "I think that given enough time, an ug-a-lee duckling like you could turn into something. How's about a beauty-ful stain on the wall?"

He pulled a large gun out from behind him and began shooting at me. Fortunately, the size of the gun made it a lot slower than an ordinary gun, and I was able to dodge it with relative ease. I dodged somewhere around a dozen shots before Steelbeak gave up.

"Hmm, you're obviously not one of the SHUSH people," he said. "They'd have spent about a half-hour trying to figure out the exact trajectory of a leaf in the wind, let alone someone trying to shoot at them."

"Yeah, well at least I never saw SHUSH take over a hospital, transform it into a hideous death maze, and do it all for fun," I retorted.

"Hey, whoever said that taking over the world was all talk and business? I mean, those SHUSH people have no idea how to just kick back and enjoy themselves. Now, you on the other hand...You're different, aren't you? Instead of a three-piece suit that has 'shoot me, I'm serious' on it, you go for your own look. Hey, I like that! You could go far with F.O.W.L. They're always looking for indy-viduals that take the initiative."

"No thanks," I told him. "I don't go for groups whose modus operandi includes making innocents suffer. Do you have any idea how many people go to this hospital? How many sick children had to wait to find a doctor? How many parents had to worry all because of you?"

"Yeah, save it for the sympathy brigade. You're not going to join us, that means I actually have to get serious about killing you...Which will be a lot of fun, trust me."

He pulled a remote control out of his pocket and pressed a button. Instantly,a pair of robotic shackles popped up out of the ground. Before I had a chance to blink, they clamped around my arms and legs, pinning me in place.

"So," Steelbeak continued nonchalantly, as if he was deciding what kind of music he wanted to listen to. "What horrific fate should I give a pajama-wearing maroon like you?"

"I'm kinda partial to the catch-and-release technique myself," I gulped.

He laughed. "Oh, a comedian! That's cute, but the fact remains that we have to get the message through to anyone stupid enough to stand in our way. Say, I know. I'll show youse the might of our latest inventy-on."

He pressed another button on the remote, and this time a door in the wall opened. I could see a hazzard suit in the space within. Steelbeak kept talking as he picked the suit up and began putting it on.

"Since this little inventy-on...And I do mean_ little_...Is gonna kill you, I might as well tell ya the gory details. F.O.W.L. high command has been trying to find a way to bring the authorities to their knees with the very air they breathe. And how do they intend on doing that, you ask? The answer is the reason why a lot of people can't stop and smell the flowers. We're talking major allergies, here. What F.O.W.L.'s labs have cooked up is a allergen that everybody's allergic to. Just a little whiff of it will make you unable to breathe, at least not without coughing your lungs out, and the more you're exposed to the allergen, the worse it gets. It'll be fun watching you struggle to breathe until you can't," and Steelbeak laughed nastily.

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain why you had to take over a hospital," I said.

"Simple enough, my good victim. We needed a place to mass produce our little stars. Oh sure, we could've done it in the labs, but think of all the fun we'd be missing out on."

I thought of all the things I'd gone through that day trying to take care of my daughter. I had honestly thought that Gosalyn was going to die at one point because we couldn't find a doctor. Those guys had made both me and my family suffer...And he called that fun?!

"You're insane," I growled as I struggled to get out of the shackles.

"I'm just your average supervillian making my mark on the world," Steelbeak replied as he finished putting on the suit. "But, let me ask you this...In the next few minutes, one of us will be choking to death. Now, which one would it be? Gee, I wonder." He laughed again as he pressed another button on the remote. I struggled desparately to get free. If I just had a little more time...

The doors slammed shut behind me, and this time a hole in the ceiling opened up. A thick, yellow cloud of what must've been allergens poured in. I tried to hold my breath as the cloud swarmed around me, but found it to be impossible. I coughed, gasped, and braced myself for the worst...

...And felt perfectly normal. No hives, and I certainly could breathe normally. No, the allergen must not have taken effect yet. It would happen soon...

...Any moment now...

"What the?!" Steelbeak exclaimed. "Why isn't it working? Where's all the hives, the wheezing, the coughing his lungs up?"

I opened my eyes. Steelbeak was staring at me in utter shock. I had no clue why the allergens weren't working, but it gave me time to try and struggle to break myself loose. A few seconds later, the shackles broke with a "Snap," and I was free.

"Ha! Sorry, Steelbeak. I guess I'm not allergic to your little concoction. Now, surrender and face justice!"

"What...How could you...They said it would work on everybody! When I get back to the labs I'm gonna cream them..."

He grabbed his gun again, but this time I was ready for him. In an athletic surge, I flipped over the bullets and kicked his arm, sending the gun flying.

"Ow! Okay, now you're gonna get it..." Steelbeak said, then paused, and clutched a hand to his throat.

"My suit! You ripped it..." And then, he started coughing. I realized thathis suit now had a rip in the sleeve, where I'd kicked him.

"What's the matter, Steely? Allergies got you down?" I asked, with a certainamount of justifiable malice.

"You'll pay for this, Duck," he ground out between coughs. Then, he grabbed his remote from where he'd dropped it and pressed a button. This time, a vacuum cleaner-like apparatus popped out of the ceiling and began sucking all the allergens in.

"So, you control everything in this room with that little remote, right?" I asked, and very quickly snatched it out of his hand before he could do any more damage with it.

"Why you...I'll murder youse," Steelbeak began, then coughed some more. "Right after I get some fresh air." Before I could do anything, He staggered over to the console behind him and pressed a button. The remote in my hands suddenly exploded, causing me to yelp and drop the remains. I looked up to see that Steelbeak was gone. I immediately ran out the door after him, but as I followed him into the next room, I was very surprised to see him stepping into a miniature rocket. As I watched, the rocket's engine came to

life with an ominous rumble, which kinda meant that I had to run away from it. I wasn't that desparate to capture Steelbeak. I managed to duck behind the wall until the rumbling and shaking had stopped.

"Ha," I said. "Once again, the triumphant hero emerges victorious."

A half-hour later, the monitor room was filled with SHUSH scientists gingerly removing the tank of allergens from the ceiling. Several other scientists surrounded me, listening to the story of how I'd defeated Steelbeak. Again. This was the fourteenth time I'd told that story. Not that I minded, but my throat was beginning to feel a little hoarse.

"So, you're saying that you didn't feel any ill effects whatsoever from the allergens?" A scientist asked.

"For the hundredth time, no. I felt perfectly normal. I guess it must be my super stamina. That kick I did at the end was pretty effective, too. Maybe I should get that move patented..."

I suddenly felt a poke at my back.

"Hey, watch it!" I spluttered, turning to glare at yet another scientist.

"Sorry, sir. I was just curious about what this white stuff on your cape is."

I flinched. I had tried to clean all that flour off before everyone got there, but I hadn't been that sucessful, apparently.

The scientist pulled a microscope out of his jacket and peered through it.

"W-Wait a second!," he yelped. "This is...Yes, I think this is flour!"

"Of course," another scientist realized. "Flour has Dihydro Monoxide in it, and those microbes must've been Pyhydrate based. Everyone knows that Dihydro Monoxide nullifies the effects of Pyhydrates!"

"Er...Yeah, I knew that," I agreed, trying to sound smart.

"Darkwing, you have done well," that Hooter guy said as he entered the room. "Steelbeak might have gotten away, but you have solved the mystery of that airborne threat, and found a cure for those afflcited by it. What's more, Steelbeak in his haste to escape abandoned both his minions and evidence which has showed us the location of the labs which made these microbes. Even now, our agents are shutting down their labs, which will certainly put a crimp on F.O.W.L.'s plans."

"Yup, yup, yup," I said. "I told you I'd bring those guys to justice."

"And, as I promised," Hooter continued, "You shall be rewarded for your help." He pulled a check out of his jacket. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your help."

I took the check, then I looked at the numbers on it.

"Excuse me, uh J. Gander...I think you went a little overboard there. That's a lot of zeroes."

"Nonsense. Fifteen thousand is what every SHUSH agent gets for a mission."

R-R-really?" I asked.

"Of course. Additionally, if you ever feel like working with us again, our scientists could give you some of our technology to use along with your financial reward."

"You bet I would like to work with you guys again," I told him. With that kind of money, not only would we not only have to worry about losing the cable, power, or even the house, but the thought of getting enough high-tech thingies and doohickies to make Darkwing Duck a practically unstoppable crime fighting force made me positively giddy.

"Then it's settled," Hooter said. "From this day forth, Darkwing Duck is officially a freelance ally and associate of SHUSH."

He offered his hand to shake. Stifling the urge to laugh at my good fortune, I took it.

That giddy feeling stayed with me even as I got myself to home, and to bed. Needless to say, I needed my rest, too. The next day however, I was awakened a lot earlier than I'd anticipated by the sound of my completely back to normal daughter kicking the door open.

"Hey, Dad," Gosalyn bellowed at the top of her lungs. "You awake?"

"I am now," I croaked. "What's the emergency? I don't think it's time for you to go to school yet."

"Well, they were saying on the news that the hospital's open again, and that all the doctors are healthy again. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"

"It was mostly SHUSH, but I helped a bit," For once, I was too tired to brag. "And yes, they paid me, and they say that I'll get paid whenever I help them, so we won't have to worry about having no money again. Now, will you let me go back to sleep?"

"Not yet. I was thinking that I owed you one for everything you did for me yesterday, so I got you some flowers."

Gos held up a handful of slightly wilted daisies.

"Why, thanks, honey..." I began, then I realized that the flowers looked familiar.

"Wait a minute. Where did these come from?"

"The Muddlefoots. And before you ask, Binky said I could have them. Oh, and Launchpad and I both agreed that you deserve a break, so today we're all going to the video store and you get to pick the movie we watch."

"Aw gee, Gos," I said as I ruffled her hair. "I'm lucky to have you guys."

"And we're lucky to have you. Who else can pay for the videos we rent?"

I sighed, getting the subtle hint.


	3. Chapter 3

_The editor was getting a splitting headache. Not that he didn't deserve it by this point, he'd known what was coming. Everyone that knew this kid had warned him. Still, he'd spent the last two hours listening to this one kid go on and on and on about the products she wanted to make._

_"Asprin?"_

_The editor looked up to see the kid's father glancing over at him, offering a bottle of asprin. _

_"Was it that obvious?" He asked, taking the bottle. The Duck just laughed._

_"Hey, you guys I'm not finished yet," the Duck's daughter whined from the other side of the editor's desk. "I haven't had a chance to tell you about that 'Darkwing Duck' collectable card game I was making."_

_"When did you make a card game?" The Duck asked her irritably._

_"Well, I haven't really made it yet, but it'll be a smash hit when I do."_

_"Hey, Gosalyn," the editor said getting an idea. "You're into video games, right? I'll bet that you'd like to check out the company's arcade."_

_"Keen gear, there's an arcade here? Really?"_

_"Yup, it's on the second floor, right across from the cafeteria, you can't miss it."_

_The kid promptly ran around the desk to her father._

_"Maybe I'll tell you guys about the card game and the other things later. Can I go, Dad? Huh? Huh? Huh?"_

_The Duck sighed. "All right, sure. Go ahead."_

_The kid promptly ran for the elevator. Once the elevator's doors were closed, the editor heaved a huge sigh of relief._

_"I guess I wasn't quite as good with kids as I thought," he remarked._

_"Nah, you're doing just fine. She's just hyper today because this is the first time she's been here since they cancelled my show," the Duck told him. "'Course, this means I'm gonna have a hard time pulling her out of that arcade."_

_"I can get them to cut the power to the arcade if you get really desparate," the editor volunteered._

_"That'll really help, thanks."_

_"Don't mention it. So, now that she's out of the way...The manuscript?"_

_The Duck pulled a bunch of papers out of his cape. "Here you go. I wasn't actually planning on bringing Gos, but her hockey tournament's finals were cancelled. I guess the ice rink had a few snags, and now it's a swimming pool."_

_"Hmm," the editor nodded absently. "There's a lot more here than in the first story, that's good...You make fifteen thousand for each SHUSH mission? That's more than most people make in a month."_

_"Most of it goes to repairs," the Duck told him. "Airplane and motorcycle parts aren't exactly cheap, plus there's the occasional...Uh...collateral damage. Then there's the fact that I only see SHUSH missions on an average of once a month, so we're not exactly really rich."_

_"Oh," the editor said. "So, what's the next story going to be?"_

_"It's how Honker discovered my secret identity. Or rather how I found out that Honker knew my secret identity. One of my rare slip-ups."_

_"That Honker's one sharp kid, isn't he?"_

_"You have no idea. Speaking of kids, we should check on mine. Knowing my luck, she's re-wired the arcade already."_

_"That sounds like a good idea," the editor agreed, as he got up from his chair._

_The arcade was a bit old-fashioned by comparison to most arcades, but as they approached, the editor realized that by the standards of cartoon characters from a cartoon from the 1990s, it was a wonder to behold. The kid was already deep in a game, although she had to use one of the chairs from the cafeteria to reach it. It was one of those realistic shooters where aliens were "Fragged." She had an audience, too, mostly interns, secretaries, and other workers who had been having lunch at the cafeteria across the hall, but then again the editor reflected, that was only natural. Normally, cartoon characters were on the television, not hanging out and playing video games. She looked up cheerfully as her father walked over._

_"Hey, Dad! Check this game out, this is what I want to do when I grow up."_

_Her father sighed. "Gosalyn, that game is too violent for you. Stop playing it right now."_

_"Aw, Dad...I like this game, and besides, I'm winning."_

_"No 'buts,' young lady. That game is too gory, and it'll give you nightmares. Hey, what about that game there?"_

_He pointed to one of those rhythm-dancing games over in the corner. One of the interns was already on it, doing a hyper peppy-sounding song. As the intern finished the round, the Duck walked over._

_"Say, that looks interesting. Can I try it?"_

_"Uh...Sure thing," the intern said awkwardly, probably feeling very surprised to be addressing a cartoon character. "Here, I was doing it at the hard level, I'll just make it a bit easier for you."_

_"Easy, pfft. I'm in tip-top shape, I can handle 'hard.'"_

_"Er...Go right ahead," the intern said, as he got off the machine. The Duck got on just as the next song was starting...And promptly made a fool of himself, losing the song in about ten seconds._

_"Ha, I wonder if that game has a 'wimpy' mode?" The kid said. "Because I think that might just be your level."_

_"Very funny," her father said from the floor next to the machine. "I suppose you can do any better?"_

_"Why don't you both try it?" The editor asked. "The game's got a two-player mode. It'll be fun to see you both do it."_

_Father and daughter both looked at each other._

_"Yeah, I'll show this old man how to really hit those pads."_

_"Who's an old man? I'll have you know that I tripped that last time. Yeah, I tripped on my cape and that's why I lost that round."_

_The editor and the interns watched as the two cartoon characters began another round, all the while continuing to trade insults and, as the saying went, talk "smack" at each other._

_"That reminds me," another intern remarked as he watched them dance, "I promised my daughter I'd take her to the mall tomorrow...I wonder if she'd like to do something like this."_

_A woman, who the editor recognized as the sales manager from a couple of floors below him walked over with a can of soda in one hand. _

_"Now here's something I didn't expect to see," she said. "I grew up with thatshow...Do they have something to do with that big project you were talking about?"_

_"You guessed it," the editor said. He shook his head. "I hope they get it out of their systems soon, he's got to write a story for me tonight...I'd hate to have to cut the power on both of them!"_

* * *

Part 3: Hide and Science

So, we're up to the third story. This one's about my first real encounter with Honker Muddlefoot. I say that because for the first few months, he and I didn't interact much at all. Oh sure, we saw each other, but I was always too busy with other things to pay much attention to him. I did pick up on one thing, though. The kid was clearly smarter than the rest of his family. Someof the books he read were almost too complicated for me, let alone a kid his age!

I'm not exactly sure when Gosalyn started hanging out with Honker. To me, it seemed like one day, they just started doing things together. I suspect that it was probably because they were in the same class, or because they were neighbors. It could've been either one of those.

Anyways, it all started about a few weeks after the SHUSH incident. Gos and I were in the living room, having a particularly loud argument about something that was particularly vital to our livelihood.

"Why can't I play 'Wiffle Boy 2'?" Gos demanded irritably. "It's not like I have homework tonight or anything."

"Because I have to actually do my day job for once and get this video game tested," I replied. "And it's a one-player game, so I'm afraid you'll have to sit this one out until I'm done with it. Maybe you can do something constructive with your time, like clean your room!"

"Aw, why can't I play the video game while you watch?"

"Gosalyn, you know I can't do that. I need to see how the controllers hold up under pressure, so I need to be the one to play it."

"But I'm the perfect person to playtest it. I'm part of the crowd they're shooting for...Besides, unlike a certain someone, I'm not too old for video games!"

Fortunately for my beloved daughter, the doorbell went off before I could ground her.

"We'll discuss this later," I told her as I went to get the door. I wondered who it was...I wasn't really expecting anybody. Knowing my good luck, it was probably one of our _charmingly_ tacky neighbors, the Muddlefoots,,,

"Hiya, Drake-a-roo!"

I cringed. It would be Herb Muddlefoot, wouldn't it?

"Er...Hi, Herb. What're you doing here?"

"Well ya see, we've got one of those comply-cated situations. I was planning on bringing Binky an' the boys to that big 'Pelican's Island' convention this weekend..."

"Oh, were you? Sounds lovely. Have fun."

An entire weekend without the Muddlefoots! I was feeling better just thinking about it!

"That's where the comply-cation comes in. There's this big scientist comin' to town Saturday to discuss his new book, and little Honker's a big fan of the guy, and he wants to go see this guy so badly, but Binky really wanted to go to th' convention, an' I can't let her down..."

"Wait a sec...You're asking me to watch Honker, aren't you?

"It's only for the weekend. Honker won't give ya any trouble. He's a good kid."

"But...But...But..."

What I really wanted to say was that I wanted nothing whatsoever to do with any of the Muddlefoots, if it were at all possible. Even the one egghead that wasn't anything like his family. And what was worse, to have one of them staying at my house, running the risk of finding out about my less ordinary alter ego...

It was at this point where my daughter decided to stick her head out the door and, of course, totally ruin my attempts to persuade Herb otherwise.

"Honker? Here? For the entire weekend? Kean Gear! Dad, please say yes, pleeease?"

"Well, I don't..." I began.

"Dad," Gos snapped. "You're the one that wants me to study, right? Honker can help me. He's the smartest kid in my class."

"Just a minute," I told Herb, then took Gosalyn off to the side.

"Now, aren't we being just a bit hasty?" I asked her irritably. "Need I remind you that I have a mysterious alter ego I'm trying to keep a secret?"

"Dad, Honker really wants to meet this guy. He's been going on and on for the last few weeks about how he's read the books and what the guy thinks and all that. I really think he'll be all right...But, if you don't like it, then I'm perfectly fine with that."

"Gos, you..."

"...And I also think the kids at school are going to love these embarrasing pictures of you when you were a kid. Right, 'Drakey?'"

She held up a bunch of pictures of me in my youth. Naturally, they were excellent pictures, but they weren't the type that I wanted anyone outside the family to see.

"How did you get those?" I spluttered. "They aren't yours..."

I tried to snatch them out of her hands, but she was too quick for me.

"Uh-uh, Dad. Finders keepers. So, have you made up your mind about Honker yet? Because if you still don't want to watch him, then I'll just have to bring the pictures to school. I'm _really_ looking forward to show and tell tomorrow..."

"Grr," I growled as I buried my face in my hand. Then, I turned back to Herb.

"Okay, Herb. I'll watch Honker for you. Maybe he'll help Gos with her homework...She needs all the help she can get!"

And so it was two days later, on Friday, that our baby-sitting escapade started. After school got out for the day, I wandered over to the Muddlefoots' to pick up Honker.

"I gotta tell ya, you're a real pal for doing this, Drake-ster." Herb burbled happily.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Herb," I told him. "You guys just go and have fun at your convention."

While I enjoyed having Herb and Binky out of my life for a whole weekend.

Meanwhile, my young charge was getting some last minute instructions from his Mother.

"Now remember Honker dear, be nice to Mr. Mallard. And don't forget to brush your teeth."

"Yes, Mom." Honker said in that quiet voice of his. Now that I think about it, I think that might have been the first time I heard him talk. I thought he sounded like he had a bad cold. It was probably allergies, though.

"And try not to let the chainsaw-wielding maniacs bite," his brother Tank called nastily from the window of the family RV.

"Well, it looks like we're all packed," Herb said cheerfully. "Guess it's time to weigh anchor an' set sail. 'Pelican's Island,' here we come!"

Honker and I watched the RV rumble off around the corner, and out of sight.

"M-Mr. Mallard," Honker's soft voice drifted up from where he stood beside me. "I really have to thank you for doing this. D-Don't get me wrong, I like 'Pelican's Island,' but not that much...I don't think I'd survive the convention. B-Besides, I really wanted to hear Dr, Vega speak. He wrote so many of my favorite books, and I was hoping to hear about his views on Thymine Glucosates."

"Thymine?" I attempted to pronounce it correctly. "That's one word I never heard your parents say."

"I...Um...Can't say it in front of Mom, though. S-she thinks it's a dirty word."

I laughed. "She would, wouldn't she? You really don't act like the rest of your family...Sometimes I'm tempted to ask your parents if they're sure you're related..."

I suddenly realized what I'd just said, and quickly attempted to fix the situation.

"Er...No offense meant there."

"It's okay, Mom and Dad say that differences are what makes us people. I knowwho I am, and my parents are always nice to me. The only thing I have to worry about is if Tank's home."

"Yeah, I guess that Tank's proof that someone up there's got a twisted sense of humor."

I had tried to make my place a little less...Darkwing-ish before Honker arrived. The spare costumes and all the pictures of me in said costumes were all either at the tower, or in the case of the last costume, with me at all times. I'd placed a cardboard box over that one statue that triggered the trapdoor, so there was no chance that anyone might accidentally set it off.

So, as I wandered into the living room a couple of hours later, I was fairly confident that there was nothing in the house that could connect me with my heroic alter ego.

Now, if only I could say the same about my companions...

"Hey, how ya doin', Dee...Er, Drake?" Launchpad asked. He was sitting on the couch, eating a sandwich. Which wouldn't be so bad except it was peanut butter and olives. He calls it "healthy eating!" Puh-leeze!

"The Honk-man and I were just catching the latest 'Young an' the Brainless,'" he continued. I hadn't realized that Honker was in the room until his name had come up, but there he was, pulling his wallflower act over in one of the easy chairs with a book.

"Well, that's good," I said. "Carry on."

I was just about to turn around and leave when the T.V. caught my attention.

"This is Tom Lockjaw with a channel 6 update. The city council meeting has just adjourned. Among the projects they have scheduled for the upcoming weekend, a stricter fine for jaywalkers, more fundraisers for the libraries..."

"Sounds like our fair government is hard at work," I remarked. "Making things easier for all of us..."

"...And inspections for all major structures in the city, starting on Sunday with our own Audubon Bay Bridge."

I very nearly blurted out the word "What?!" But I caught myself in time. Instead I quickly grabbed Launchpad by his scarf and pulled him out of the room and out of earshot.

"Did you hear that?" I demanded.

"Yup. Sounds like our government's really concerned about its' structures."

"Has it occured to you that I use one of those structures as a secret base? That my secret identity could be in serious jeopardy if they find said base, and the tunnel that leads right back to this house?!"

"Oh yeah, that wouldn't be good, would it?"

"We have to find some way to clear the tower up," I told him. "Or at least to persuade those inspectors to inspect elsewhere!"

"Okay, D.W. Once 'The Young an' the Brainless' is over..."

"No, Launchpad. We have to start right now!"

"But, I promised Honker that we'd play 'Trivial Trivia: The Flight edition.'"

"Honker? Oh, great..."

How was I supposed to get all this around Honker? The kid was _smart_...If he saw a lot of crime-fighting equipment cluttering up the house, he'd definitely know something was up.

"All right, how about this. We'll wait until the kids are asleep, then go see what we can do about the Tower."

"You got it, D.W.," Launchpad said as he went back to the living room. Meanwhile, I continued to try and think of a good way out of this.

"At least we should find a way to lock the tunnel up," I muttered.

"What about the tunnel?" Gos asked from behind me.

"Gosalyn!" I yelped, nearly jumping out of my skin. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Well, you didn't notice me coming up. What's up, anyways? Some major supervillian trying to conquer the world again?"

"I wish. They're going to be inspecting the Bridge on Sunday, so that means I need to clear everything out of the Tower before then...It's gonna be a long night."

"Hmm, maybe I can help."

"No!" The last thing I needed was for Gos to try to "help." Especially with a lot of dangerous crime-fighting equipment lying around. I saw the look on her face and frantically thought of a good excuse to keep her at home.

"No, I...Well, it's not that I can't use your help, but we need someone to stay at home and keep Honker from getting too suspicious. You think you can do that?"

"Sure, no problem. Hey, it looks like the T.V. show is ending, so I'm going to play video games."

"Not so fast, young lady. I told you, no video games until you finish your homework and clean your room."

"No sweat, Dad. It's all finished," she told me.

"Your homework, I can believe, but how did you finish cleaning out that cluttered room of yours?"

"Honker helped me. You can check if you don't believe me."

"I think I'll call you on that one," I replied heading for the stairs.

One minute later, I stared in shock at Gosalyn's spotless room.

"I...I don't believe it," I said.

"That...Is why you fail," Gos said sagely.

"Cut the smart talk, Gos. How did you do all this?"

"I told you, Honker helped. Now, can I play my video games?"

"Er...I guess so..."

"Ha! Thanks, Dad!" And she was off.

I still couldn't believe that Gos had somehow cleaned her room so fast, but there it was, right in front of my eyes. I shook my head and shuffled back down the stairs, trying to get my mind back to my real problem. Where was I supposed to hide all the stuff from my secret hideout, anyways? Underwater? Nah, then people could accidentally fish it up. Besides, as a certain dim-bulb power junkie had taught me, water and electricity did _not_ mix. I could try hiding it underground, but that'd require a hole as big as the

house. Plus, there was the matter of moving all that stuff, and keeping it hidden from anyone that could come wandering by...

That left two options. Either exposing my secret hideout to the inspectors and somehow swearing them to secrecy, or bringing the stuff up to the house, running the risk of Honker finding out my secret identity.

"Oh, there you are Dad," Gos said cheerfully as I returned to the living room. "You wanna play? It's 'Wiffle Boy 2.'"

That game had just come out. As a matter of fact, I'd just gotten it four days ago just because we'd both wanted to play it so badly. Especially since this was the first game in the series where two players could play at the same time.

"Sorry, Gos. I can't." I told her. "Uh...I need to get to the video store and see if they have 'Triplis' yet.

"'Triplis?' Dad, that game's not supposed to be out until next week."

So much for subtly distracting the kids while I sneaked off to the Tower.

"I know, but it's the first video game I playtested...Aw, all right." Well, I certainly didn't want to raise any suspicions, especially with Honker in the room.

"One game," I said. "Then when the last life is up, it's your bedtime."

"Aw, that's easy. That means that I just have to not lose any lives, then I can stay up the whole night!"

"Okay, make that either until the last life is up, or we get to Level 4."

"What? No fair!" Gos whined.

"Hey, it could be worse. At least I turned off the 'Friendly Fire' option. That'd be one way to end the game real quickly, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah? Well, I'll end your game quickly," Gos said as the game started. Her character picked up mine before I could react and pitched it into the nearest posse of pixelated enemies.

"What the...Ooh, I'll get you for that," I growled as I button mashed my way out of that situation.

"Are you sure they're not really related?" I heard Honker ask Launchpad from where they were setting up their board game.

I spent far more time video gaming with my daughter than I should have. What _is_ it about games like these that suck me right in?

Anyways, once we reached the fourth level, I managed to persuade Gosalyn that she had to go to bed. Then, it was time to attempt to clear out the Tower.

"Okay," I told Launchpad. "We should probably save all the high-tech stuff for last. Let's start with all those pictures of me I collected."

Needless to say, the entire basement was crammed full before we were even halfway through.

"Y'know D.W.," Launchpad remarked. "Maybe you should cut back on your picture collection."

"Aw, but it's my collection. Each and every one of those pictures is a glimpse of what my life was like. Imagine it...Years from now, kids all over the world will know what Darkwing Duck went through to become who he is."

"Yeah, but at this rate, you're gonna need a picture book the size of the Empire State Building just to hold 'em all."

Unfortunately, while I very much enjoyed my photo collection, I had to very grudgingly admit that he had a point. We worked through the whole night filling up both the basement and the attic, and we didn't even _finish _moving all the pictures. By the time we'd finished filling up the house, it was sometime very early in the morning and we were both ready to call it a night. As a matter of fact, I was tired enough from moving stuff that it took Gosalyn a whopping two minutes of bouncing on the bed to wake me up.

"Oof, ow," I grunted. "Don't you have Saturday morning cartoons to watch?"

"It's after noon, sleepyhead. They've moved on to the football and infomercials."

"Yeah? Well, why don't you move on and let me get some sleep!" And with that, I grabbed my pillow and pulled it over my head. Unfortunately, it wasn't big and fluffy enough that I couldn't hear.

"Dad, we're supposed to bring Honker to that science guy's lecture at three, which is in an hour, remember? Or have you been too busy worrying about those bridge inspectors to think about anything else?"

"For your information, daughter mine, the fact is that both my secret hideout and secret identity are at risk here, so little things like Honker aren't quite as important right now."

"_Little things?!_ Dad, Honker's my friend, and you should know better than to talk about him like that. Besides, Honker's got that holographic projector he was showing me last night. You can use it to fool those inspectors."

"Holographic projector? How is that supposed to fool a city inspector?"

"Well, it sure fooled you last night..."

"Fooled me last _what?!" _I exclaimed. Gos quickly realized her mistake and took evasive action.

"Oops, would you look at this...Sounds like the football game's starting. Gotta run!" And she was gone.

I hauled myself out of bed and shambled over to my daughter's bedroom. This time, it was as messy as it ever was...Possibly more.

"Gos-_alyn!" _I bellowed irritably.

Unfortunately, the fact that Honker's lecture was only an hour away made things a lot more chaotic that morning. Between waking up, getting myself dressed, and yelling at my daughter, the thought of Honker's projector-thingy completely slipped my mind. I did think of it briefly as I shepherded everyone to the car, but try as I might, I couldn't find a good way to broach the subject to him. Well, what was I supposed to say? "Hey, Honker I need to borrow your projector, but I can't tell you why." Gee, that would _really_ keep him from getting suspicious.

Dr. Vega's lecture was to be held in an auditorium at Prymore labs, who it turned out were his sponsors. Upon arriving in the lobby of the building, the four of us found ourselves awash in eggheads, nerds, and even a few geeks.

"Aw geez..." I groaned. "So much for being late. The lecture hasn't even _started _yet."

"Yeah," Gos agreed. "I don't think they've even opened the auditorium yet. Hey, check it out...There's protestors over there!"

I was mildly discomfrited to see that she was right, there was a circle of protestors marching around one corner of the lobby. The one or two signs I could see had slogans like _"Plants are plants, not cows," _on them.

"Geez," I said. "Looks like this guy is a controversy and a half. What does he do, anyways?"

That remark earned me glares from every egghead near enough to hear me.

"D-Doctor Vega's a famous geneticist," Honker stammered from behind me. "H-he m-made a lot of people angry when he wanted to work on putting plant DNA into animals."

That revelation made me turn and stare at him, as an unpleasant thought occured to me.

"Hey, D.W.," Launchpad said in as close to an undertone as he was going to get. "You don't think this has something to do with that weird plant guy from a while back, do you?"

"Nah," I responded as I tried to tell myself the same thing. "Remember what happened last time? That lawn mower _pureed_ him. I don't think that even someone like _him_ could recover from something like that."

"Hey, Dad?" Gos asked. "Can I go look at the protestors?"

"Gosalyn, don't even think about it. I am not letting you get close to those hipp...Uh...non-conformists."

"Aw, come on Dad. There's nothing better to do. We can't even go in the auditorium yet, and I'm bored."

"Grr...Awright awright awright, but just look. Don't try to talk to them, don't make fun of them, try not to make eye contact, even. Then you come right back here."

She ran off, and was immediately lost in the crowd.

"How did I get myself dragged into this?" I wondered out loud.

That's when Gos came back.

"Hey Dad, y'know how you're always going on about suspicious characters? I think I found one."

"What? What kind of suspicious character?"

"Well, for starters I saw a few leaves falling off him as he walked."

Launchpad and I exchanged glances.

"Wait, you don't think..." He began.

"Sounds kinda like Bushroot to me," I said at the same time. "I guess maybe he _did_ survive after all...Whatever he's up to, it can't be good."

"So, I was right," Gos said. "That was a dangerous criminal. C'mon, let's_ get _him!"

"Oh no, you don't young lady," I told her firmly. "Launchpad, you'd better get the kids out of here, and make sure Gos doesn't come back! I'll go set off the fire alarm to clear all the eggheads out of here, and...Wait, where's Honker?"

They both blinked and looked around.

"He was here just a second ago..." Launchpad exclaimed. "Maybe he just went to the bathroom?"

"Aw,_ perfect_," I groaned. "Look, we don't have time to worry about this. Get Gosalyn out, then once you're out try and find him. He's not stupid...He'll probably leave like everyone else when the fire alarm goes off. Now, I have a criminal to thwart!" And I went in search of the nearest broom closet.

Once I'd changed, I found the nearest fire alarm and set it off.

"There," I said stifling the urge to cover my ears at the sudden extremely loud noise. "Now to find that wretched weed, Bushroot!"

I decided that it might be a good idea to start my search for the deranged dandelion in the part of the building where the scientists normally worked. In this case, that was the building's basement. So, I headed for the nearest stairwell. But as I opened the door to the stairs, I heard voices drifting up, one of which was very familiar...

"Don't bother me, boy. I have experiments to take care of!"

"B-b-but D-d-doctor Vega..."

I slapped my face in exasperation. I'd thought Honker had more sense than that. The fire alarm was going off, for Pete's sake! He was supposed to be out of the building already!

"...D-Doctor Vega, y-you have to get out! F-F-fiber alar...File alarm...The

_fire alarm_..."

Hmm, maybe Honker wasn't that stupid, after all. He was apparently trying to convince someone, probably a scientist, to leave. Well, I wished him luck with that, but I wasn't there to persuade stubborn scientists to leave, I was trying to find Bushroot before he could hurt anyone...

"Dr. Vega! Long time no see!"

Oh,_ great_. I knew_ that _voice, too. Bushroot! Well, this made it a lot easier to find him. I began subtly sneaking down the stairs.

"And, who might you be? Or rather, what might you be?" I guessed the third voice belonged to that Vega fellow. Wait, wasn't Vega the guy we'd come to see?

"You probably don't recognize me, Dr. Vega," Bushroot's voice drifted up the stairs. "We met at that science convention last year, Rubicon. I'm Reggie Bushroot."

"Bushroot...That name does right a bell, although it looks like you've changeda bit. _ Lycium Nycanthropus_, right?

"Yeah, you could say I've changed. I needed to prove my research over at the university, but since I couldn't find anyone willing to be a guinea pig, I used myself."

"That's certainly a novel idea. What are you doing here, anyways?"

"Well, the fact that I'm a mutant plant-duck kinda changed things. Now, everyone thinks I'm a hideous monster, and I can't get a place to research, let alone funding for research. Then I heard you were in town, and I was wondering if you'd be kind enough to let me work with you."

"Me? Work with you?"

"Well, yeah. I'm sure that a guy who's as dedicated to plants as _I _am won't just judge me by my outside. Besides, I can really help you with your plants. I can make plants grow from seed to full bloom in an instant."

"That really sounds fascinating, Bushroot," Vega said. "Would you be interested in taking a look at some of my experiments?"

"Oh, _would_ I! Sure thing...Hey, who's this kid, anyways?"

"Kid?" Honker! I made an effort to sneak downstairs unnoticed a little faster. I could clearly hear Honker attempting to answer, but I think he was a little overwhelmed by everything that was happening. He didn't get much farther than "I, um" before Vega cut his stammering short.

"_Bah!_ I have no clue. He just showed up, then tried to make me go outside when the fire alarm went off. He was probably looking for the bathroom or something, but he must've found the wrong building. A science lab is no placefor grubby little children who mess things up."

"Yeah, speaking of which, that fire alarm's getting a little annoying. Here, I'll send some vines to shut it off."

"And while you're at it, can you do something to persuade this little grub to run along?"

"I can take care of that, too. Hey, Spike!"

Great, just what I didn't need. Bushroot was bad enough on his own, but why did Honker have to get involved?! Spike, if you don't already know, was Bushroot's dimwitted Venus Flytrap turned wannabe cainine. I could hear him growling as I stuck my head around the final corner of the stairs.

Bushroot, now wearing a trendy trenchcoat, was standing with a rather bored looking old geezer, that must've been Vega. Spike, meanwhile, was advancing on a very nervous looking Honker. The kid was slowly backing away from the big plant. He reached the wall and stopped, evidently stricken by panic. I decided it was time to make an entrance.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night..."

"Oh no, what's _he_ doing here?" I heard Bushroot say.

"...I am the frost that withers your leaves...I am Darkwing Duck!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Vega exclaimed.

I whipped out my gas gun and aimed it at Spike.

"Eat Weed-B-Gone, garlic head!"

One blast of Weed-B-Gone was enough to convince the verminous vegetable to leave Honker alone. He scrambled back to Bushroot's side, whimpering piteously.

"What the devil is going on?" Vega demanded.

"This guy's a real weed killer," Bushroot told him. "He stopped me from doing my research...I wasn't hurting anybody!"

"Only if you call trying to turn a colleague into a vegetable 'not hurting' them," I retorted.

"We must all make sacrifices in the name of science," Vega replied testily.

"Oh, and did I forget to mention that she was _completely unwilling_?! Now, stand aside, Vega. This rotten root is going to spend a long time locked up with the moss!"

"But, moss is so...Simple-minded," Bushroot whined as he ducked behind Vega. "Dr. Vega, don't let him take me!"

"Stop, in the name of science!" Vega said. "This is a brilliant man...Well, sort of anyways. I cannot do my research properly without him!"

"Yeah? Then maybe you should choose a new line of work!" I turned to Bushroot. "Now, surrender you sappy scumbucket!"

A whirring sound from the direction of Vega made me look up. The next thing I knew, my gas gun was knocked out of my hands, and I was pinned to the wall by...

"What the...? _Leaves_?!"

"Not just any leaves," Vega said grimly. "Leaves made with the DNA of seashells. They make very good throwing knives, and they won't set off metal detectors. Always handy in an emergency."

"Ha, you're not so tough without your gun, are you?" Bushroot laughed as he picked up my gas gun from where it had fallen. Behind him, Spike instantly went from cowardly cur to menacing monster again.

"All right," Bushroot whooped. "I finally get to see Darkwing Duck get turned

into fertilizer!"

"That's fine, Bushroot," Vega said. "But wouldn't you rather look at my research? It's not that I mind seeing them die, but the screams would probably get on my nerves after a while."

"Oh, but I wanted to see him die...Okay, fine. Hey, Spike...Give them an extra gnashing for me and Vega, won't you?"

He laughed again as he and Vega walked out of the stairwell, presumably to Vega's lab. Meanwhile Spike, probably out of sheer nastiness, decided to go after Honker first.

"Kid, run for it!" I yelled.

But Honker seemed to be paralyzed by fear again. He just stood there, shocked, as Spike advanced on him. I had to do something...I quickly twisted my neck around and managed to clamp my teeth on the "Leaf" pinning my arm to the wall. Once that arm was free, I reached for my other arm and the smoke bomb cuff link on my sleeve.

"Hey, pihrana plant," I called. "Snack on this!" And I threw the smoke bombat Spike. Spike's reflexes were good enough that he snapped up the the smoke bomb...

And then it went off in his mouth.

"Ha!" I said. "How's _that_ for a light meal?"

Spike whimpered as he tried to spit out the smoke, but it wasn't very effective. I took the time to pull the rest of the leaf-shells out of the wall and free myself.

"Yup-yup-yup, another one _bites_ the dust. Now then, kid...Are you all right?"

Honker nodded mutely.

"Well then, I'm sure you're impressed by my heroic abilities. Would you like a signed picture to show all your friends?"

Honker gasped, and he started trying to say something. I guessed that he was still scared, and tried to reassure him.

"You can relax now. I'm the good guy, you saw how I took care of things. It'll take much more than one bad plant to stop Darkwing Duck..."

Honker's stammering got louder, making me lose my patience.

"Oh for crying out loud, kid...Spit it out!"

"_B-Behind you!" _ Honker yelled.

I turned to see a very enraged Spike leering at me.

"Er...And sometimes, the bad plant catches me on that very rare off day, when I don't have anything to fight it with..."

It was then that I decided that, since I couldn't fight Spike and keep Honker safe at the same time, my best bet was a tactical retreat. I grabbed him by the arm.

"Let's get out of here!" I exclaimed.

Luckily, I was faster than Spike, although I think I pulled Honker off his feet during that dash. We ran through corridor after corridor, then up the stairs, then through more corridors, and finally found ourselves back in the lobby again.

"Whew, we made it," I panted. "Now let's get you out of the building and find your frien..."

I was rudely interrupted by an ominous rumble, as the room around me began shaking so hard that it knocked me of my feet.

"Oof, _what the...?"_

And then I saw what it was through the glass doors of the lobby. The outside of the building was being engulfed by huge vines, trapping us inside.

"Oh no..." I gasped. "Bushroot!"

I pulled myself to my feet and made my way to about the point where the door used to be. The vines were big enough that I couldn't push them out of the way, and they were thick enough that they were able to resist the ever popular Darkwing jackhammer. After about a minute of trying, I realized that the jackhammer was now a mere stump. I made a mental note to write an outraged letter to the Acme jackhammer corporation.

"Blast it...Too bad I don't have any dynamite," I grumbled.

"M-Mister Darkwing, sir," Honker said as he pulled himself out from under the table where he had taken shelter. "A-are you okay?"

"I'm fine, H...Uh, kid," I replied remembering at the last second that I wasn't supposed to know this kid.

"...But it looks like we're stuck here." I glared at the vines irritably. "Hey, what's your name anyways? I can't keep calling you 'kid,' y'know."

"H-Honker. Honker M-Muddlefoot."

"Okay, Honker. Now, the million dollar question is what should I do with you? I..."

I was cut off by the familiar voice of my daughter from the other side of the vines.

"Dad! Hey, Dad, is that you?"

I flinched. Of course Gosalyn would forget that I was in "secret identity" mode. On the bright side, she was on the side of the vines that wasn't quite

as dangerous.

"Er...Heh," I stammered. "You must be mistaking me for someone else, oh little girl who I _definitely_ do not know." Before Gos could further complicate my secret identity, I continued. "I've found someone still in the building, I think you might know him, Honker Muddlefoot?"

"Honker's there?"

"Hey, Honk-man, you doing okay?" Launchpad's voice called from the other side of the vines at the same time.

"I'm fine," Honker called back.

"What's that, little guy? I can't hear you, could you speak up?"

"He says he's okay," I told Launchpad, having realized that given how quiet Honker's voice was, yelling loud enough for the others to hear him would probably strain the kid's voice right out.

"Really?" Launchpad sounded relieved. "Well, don't you worry Honk. You're in good hands with D.W. there."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said. "We've got a bit of trouble in here, though. Bushroot's the one that raised this vine-wall. He and Spike seem to be teaming up with that Vega guy, and given what I've seen this Vega do...Well, I really don't want to tangle with plants that're half seashell. I have to take Bushroot down as soon as possible. We've also got Spike on the prowl, looking for us, so I can't take chances..."

I turned back to my young charge. "Now look, Honker, I can't keep you safe and fight the bad guys at the same time, so you'd better stay here where you can hear the others."

"Yes, sir."

"Aw, _c'mon_ Honker," Gos whined. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to help that Vega guy out."

"Absolutely not," I told her. "Must I remind you that this is a very dangerous situation? That there is a good possibility of someone getting _hurt_ in all this?"

"Well," Launchpad said, "Maybe I'm just being gloomy, but with Spike out looking for you guys, it's probably not a good idea to leave Honker all alone and defenseless like that."

I sighed. "Great. _ Now _you start having good ideas."

"Besides, Da...I mean, Darkwing, " Gos added. "Honker could really help you. He knows everything about Vega."

"That won't help him against Bushroot or Spike."

"No, but it may help _you_."

"_Rrgh_," I growled. "Okay_ fine_, you're with me, Honker. But if things get too hairy or I tell you to run, you run. Got that?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, what can you tell me about this Vega guy?" I asked Honker as we started down the deserted corridors of Prymore Labs.

"Dr. Julius Vega started out as a geneticist. He wrote a lot of books about his theories, which were very popular with the scientific crowd...So popular that they made a whole bestseller list just for his books when other authors started to complain. His first book..."

"I don't need to hear about his books, Honker. Just about what he's doing _now_."

"Um, about a year and a half ago, he suddenly became interested in plant genetics. Vega said that if we could find some way to combine the DNA of plants with the DNA of animals, then we wouldn't have to worry about things like world hunger. He talked about things like home-grown hot dogs and milk straight from the vine and stuff. He called it the ultimate vegetarian's dream."

"Geez, sounds like that guy _really_ liked his vegetables."

"It was all pretty sudden, too. The next thing I knew, Vega was in the middle of a big controversy because people liked their vegetables separate from their meat."

"Yeah, I noticed. It's funny how a big deal like that always seems to attract big crowds...You'd think something like that would drive people away from him."

"Um, well," Honker said, "I think most of those scientists didn't really care one way or the other about the DNA thing, but I can tell you that I was more interested in Vega's earlier research than what he does now. Vega was always the scientist I looked up to the most, I think it was because his books were the first grown-up science books I ever read."

"The first? How old were you when you started reading his books?"

"Three...Well, four when I started reading Vega's books."

"_Four?! _Holy cow, Honker...You were reading that young? Most people can't even _talk_ right at that age, let alone read a book."

He turned a lovely shade of red. "W-well, I'm used to it. It's no big deal. The kids at school don't think so, at least...They call me a nerd. They're probably right."

"Hey, 'they' aren't always right," I told him, feeling some sympathy for the kid. "They called Milton Thacklethwait a nerd, and look where he is today! He's the vice technician at Pommegranite Computers!"

"You know Milton Thacklethwait?"

"Oh sure, I saved his life once. We're good buddies...Although I think he's kinda forgotten me since he hit it big, so I wouldn't read into it too much."

"Yes sir..." Honker replied. "Anyways, Vega's...Well, I guess you could say he's my hero. He hardly ever travels because of his research, so I...I know I've made it harder for my friends by sneaking off on them and getting caught in all this, but...I wanted to meet Vega so much. I know that he thinks I'm just a kid that'll mess up everything, but..." He sighed. "I didn't expect things to go like this..."

"Who does?" I told him. "Just remember, this is a lot more dangerous than you think. Bushroot may be a bit of a pansy, but if he sees you as a threat, he won't hesitate a moment."

Honker nodded. "Yes, mister Darkwing sir."

The corridor we were walking down led to a three-way intersection. As I poked my beak around the corner, I could hear voices coming from the left branch.

"This way," I whispered. "And remember, keep your head down, and when I say _'run,' _you run. Got that?"

He nodded. Why can't dealing with Gos be that easy? Anyways, as we sneaked over to the large set of double doors at the end of the corridor, the voices sounded clearer. I distinctly recognized Bushroot's incessant whine.

"What do you _mean_ you couldn't find them?! _Bad Spike! _I guess the next time I make anything like him, I'm going to have to give him an olfactory sense...Well, you have to go back and keep looking. With any luck, they're trying to take the vine wall down."

I heard Spike's panting coming in our direction. Thinking quickly, I grabbed Honker and pulled him behind the door as Spike pushed his way out. Thankfully, the doors opened outwards, so Spike didn't see us behind the door. He continued off on his search for us, completely oblivious to the fact that we were right behind him.

"Say, Reggie," Vega's voice drifted back through the door. "Now that you've been given the grand tour, would you like to try some of my latest fertilizer? It's good for the roots."

"Huh? Oh, sure! Is this it here?" Bushroot's voice came from over to the left, a good indication that he was moving.

"Actually, it is. Here, just try that stuff on your roots...Now doesn't that feel good?"

"Wow, I gotta tell you, Vega, I didn't think we'd see eye to eye on so much. Actually, I was kinda worried about the whole genetic splicing thing, y'know. Putting plants together with animals just to eat them...In fact, I was kinda under the impression that you were in the business for the profit instead of the research, but it looks like I was wrong. It's nice to find a colleague who actually knows as much about plants as me...Wait, my roots are starting to feel a bit funny...Kinda like they're falling asleep."

"Now don't worry your little green head, Reggie. That's _supposed _to happen. Then you won't be able to resist when I _'borrow' _your body for my research."

"You...You lied to me!" I could hear Bushroot's voice growing weaker.

"Of course not. That really is the root formula...As it has a special formula that paralyzes your body, thus nullifying your plant powers. You could almost say it keeps you_...Rooted..._to the spot!" Vega laughed manaically.

_Great_, just what I needed. Another nutjob. I turned to Honker.

"Okay, time to show the brilliant plan that I'm...I'm working on that. Er...I'll go in, and stop that scuzzy scientist, then arrest both of them. You stay here and watch the daring do-gooder at work!"

And I stealthily stepped through the doors and into the room. Neither Vega nor Bushroot noticed me, but in Bushroot's case, that was understandable. He was strapped to an operating table. I noticed that the wilting weed's feet were buried in a pot, evidently the aforementioned 'root formula.' Vega on the other hand was indulging in a gluttony of

gloating.

"Vega, how could you _do_ this to me?!" Bushroot cried miserably. "I thought we were colleagues, brothers in arms! Is it too much to ask for a little _acceptance_ once in a while?"

Vega snorted. "Colleagues? Science doesn't care about friendship. There are only results...Although I really do have to thank you for setting me on this path, Reggie."

"What?"

"If it wasn't for you meeting me at Rubicon last year, I would still be tinkering with genetic theories. There's no profit in mere theories. Now with your DNA, the sucessful combination of plant and duck, I have a subject that will further my research. With your sacrifice, _everyone_ on earth will be eating food that comes from _my _research. I'll be the richest man in the_ world!"_

"Sorry," I said. "I'm not ready to become a vegetarian yet!"

"Darkwing Duck!" Bushroot exclaimed.

"You again?" Vega snarled. "You just don't learn, do you?"

"Not when the teacher is someone like you," I replied. "Now surrender, Vega!"

"I guess I just have to repeat my lesson, then." Vega sighed. He pulled another one of those shell-leaves out of his jacket and hurled it at me, but this time I ducked under it.

"_Ha! _You lose, Vega. I'm just too quick for you."

"Whatever gave you the impression I was aiming for _you_?"

I turned to look where the shell-leaf had gone. As a matter of fact, it had severed a padlock on a door on the other side of the room. The door began swinging open.

"They might not be complete yet, their DNA just won't mesh in the right way...But allow me to introduce some of my more successful experiments." Vega announced.

It was pretty clear that the "Experiments" had once been dogs. Doberman Pinschers, to be precise. Now however, they were...Dog-plants, instead of a plant-dog like Spike. They moved stiffly, you could say woodenly. Two of them had leaves for ears, one had a branch for a tail. All of them had the same color, though. They were all colored in a mottled combination of their normal blacks and browns and a leafy green color.

"Going for strength in numbers, Vega?" I asked. "Well, numbers are nothing to a capable crime fighter..."

I suddenly had to duck as the "dogs" lunged at me. They were faster than they looked. It was still fairly easy to dodge them, though. The trick was dodging a dozen of them at once. I nimbly avoided them for about a minute before one of the dogs' teeth suddenly clamped on my cape, pinning me in place. The rest of them surrounded me, growling menacingly.

_"Mister Darkwing!"_

Honker? But, I'd told him to stay put...

I was suddenly hit in the head by a flying object.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry, Mister Darkwing. I d-didn't have enough time to calculate a good trajectory..."

Honker was cut off as Vega grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

"Meddling child! How dare you interfere in the march of progess!"

I leaned over to pick up the gas gun that Honker had thrown.

"Sorry, Vega," I said. "The march stops _here_!"

One dose of Weed-B-Gone was more than enough to send those canine daisies packing back to the door from whence they had come, then I turned to Vega.

"Okay, Vega...The gig is up!"

"Not so fast," Vega replied as he held Honker up. "One false move, and the kid gets turned into a shrub!"

I was about to reply with something witty, then I realized that Vega held a syringe in his other hand, with the needle pointing directly at Honker's neck.

"W-whatever you do, don't hurt him," I said as I dropped my gas gun.

Vega laughed. "Ah yes, the old weakness of heart called caring. It's been the downfall of many, and it just proves that in this industry called science, only the truly ruthless suceed. Now this little one might not be what I'm looking for in a subject, but the march of progress cannot be stopped..."

He pulled his arm back. I suddenly realized that he was going to carry out his threat, and started to run over there, even though I had a sinking feelingthat I wouldn't make it in time to save Honker...

Then Vega suddenly yelped and dropped both the syringe and Honker, who very sensibly quickly got out of there. I saw that Vega's arms were in fact tied up by vines.

"Y'know, as much as I'd like to see another plant-duck, I'd rather create it myself than let a parasite like you do it," Bushroot said. I wondered how he had gotten out of the root paralyzer, but then saw Spike standing next to him. Spike must've come back and freed him, I realized. Vega tried to struggle free of the vines that were still wrapping around him, but the vines held him too tightly.

"_So_, you were gonna donate my body to science before I was done with it, huh?"Bushroot asked. "Well, maybe we should see how you like some of your own medicine." He held up Vega's syringe.

"Now wait a second, Reggie," Vega said desparately. "Be reasonable. You'd already given yourself to science once, and I really needed to complete my research..."

"Too late, Vega. You've shown yourself to be just another greedy parasite, just like the rest of them. Now, you get to see your 'march of progress' firsthand."

I sighed. The world didn't need another mutated plant-duck like Bushroot. It was time for me to interfere.

"One of you is quite enough, thanks," I said. Then, with a well-aimed karate chop to Bushroot's arm, I sent the syringe flying so that it smashed on the floor.

"_No_!" Bushroot cried. "Aw, I _never _get to do anything fun. Well, at least I can press you guys into swizzle sticks!"

He waved a leafy arm, and then the room started to shake. This time, I managed to keep my balance, but while I was preserving my dignity by not falling, Bushroot and Spike ran out of the room.

"Come back here, you two!" I yelled, and took off running after the miscreants. I ran into the corridor outside, then very quickly screeched to a halt, gasping in horror. The giant vine-wall that surrounded the building was now closing in on us! Bushroot and Spike stood in front of the moving mass.

"I wouldn't mind staying to see you weeds get crunched to a pulp, but I'm thin enough as it is!"

And Bushroot laughed as the vines moved out of the way for them. I tried to catch him as he and Spike left, but the vines were too fast for me, and all I caught was a bruised beak.

"Aw, he got away," I grumbled as Honker stuck his head out the door. He was followed by a still-tied-up and hopping Vega.

"Don't worry," I told them. "I've still got enough Weed-B-Gone to keep that wall off our backs."

"That'll never work," Vega snorted.

"Oh, yeah?" I drawled. "Well, just watch this!"

The capsule of Weed-B-Gone hit the mass of vines squarely in the center. Immediately, a fog of weed-killer blew out of it.

"_Ha_," I said. "Once again, Dar..."

I was interrupted by more rumbling. The vines were still closing in on us.

"What the...Why didn't that work? It's weed killer, for pete's sake!"

"Because I spliced those vines with the DNA of seashells," Vega told me. "Those vines are impervious to any normal attack."

"Why did you do something like that?!" I demanded.

"Because I really didn't want any interruptions to my research."

"Geez, and I thought_ I _didn't have a social life!"

Vega ignored my opinion. "Our only hope is to change its' DNA to something less tough. My DNA splicer can do the job. It's in the table by my microscope...But in order for me to work it, you'll have to cut me loose."

_"What?!"_ I spluttered as Honker slipped back into the room to get it. "Why do _you_ have to be the one to use it?"

"Because_ I'm _the only one that knows how it works."

Honker returned with what must've been the splicer. It was a button-covered box, about the size of Honker's backpack. I glanced at it, then turned back to Vega.

"Yeah, right. What do you want to bet that that thing can be used for more than taking out that vine? How do we know you won't turn around and use it on us afterwards?"

"You don't," Vega told me. "But, if I don't use it, all three of us are going to be crushed to death. How does it feel to know you will be responsible for the death of a child because you were too stubborn to untie me?"

I paused. Vega was right. I couldn't live with myself if Honker died. How would Herb and Binky feel?

How would I feel if I lost Gosalyn?

"Ooh...Okay, Vega," I said reaching for the vines around him. "I'll turn you loose, but if you as much as _breathe_ a bad word in Honker's direction..."

"Actually, you don't have to worry about Vega, mister Darkwing sir," Honker said. "I've figured out how this splicer works."

"What?" Vega cried. "There's no way...You _couldn't _have...You're just a _child!"_

"Not just _any_ child," I told him. "He's Honker. Now, show Vega what you can do, Honk."

Honker nodded and pressed a few buttons on the splicer. A beam of light shot out of the box, hitting the vines, which by that point were only a few feet away. Instantly, the whole mass stopped moving and began sinking down into a massive pile of green goo.

"What the...What did you put in it?" I asked.

"Um, the softest stuff I could think of," Honker replied. "Oatmeal."

"Oatmeal? _Oatmeal?! _You're trying to tell me I was saved by _oatmeal?!"_

"Sorry, sir...Like I said, it was the softest stuff I could think of..." He paused a bit, then added "Um, I know I should've stayed out of sight, but I saw that...That..S-Spike coming, and I didn't want to meet him, so I went into the room, then I saw you fighting th-those dogs, and your g-gun on a shelf, s-so, I figured y-you might need it. I-I hope I did the right thing...""

"Nah, don't worry about it, Honker." I said, ruffling his hair. "You did great. Now, let's get this conniving convict to the police."

As I moved over to pick up Vega, I noticed that he was staring at Honker.

"Don't try anything funny, Vega," I warned him.

"Actually, I owe you, and your young friend, my thanks for getting us out of this. In fact, I'm deeply impressed that you figured out how to work my splicer, young man. You're easily the most intelligent child I've ever met. Perhaps when I am free, you and I could find some way to work together, for the good of all humanity."

For a moment, I actually expected Honker to take him up on his offer. Vega was kind of like Honker's hero, after all. The kid had been so eager to meet this guy that he'd sneaked off on all of us, something that he didn't normally do. I frantically shook my head, hoping that Honker wasn't _that_ dead set on working with Vega.

"Sorry, sir," Honker said to my relief. "I-I'm not that smart, I st-still have a lot to learn...A-And I think you do, too. Good luck, Dr. Vega. I'll still enjoy reading your books. They always were my favorites."

Once I'd delivered Vega to the police, and seen Honker back with Launchpad and Gosalyn, I took the time to make a quick change back to normal.

"Honker, _there _you are!" I exclaimed, as I made my way through the milling crowd of scientists and other onlookers. "I've been looking all over for you! Where _were_ you?!"

"S-sorry, Mister Mallard, sir. I wanted to see Dr. Vega so badly that I...I'm sorry!"

"Well, as long as you're safe, it should be all right," I said. "Just don't go telling your parents that I...Er...lost you. We can't have them thinking that I'm a bad babysitter, can we?"

"N-No, sir."

"C'mon, Dad, let's get out of here," Gos said. "If we hurry, we can make it back in time for '_The Attack of the Returning Revengers_.'"

"Hey, d'you think maybe we can stop at Hamburger Hippo on the way?" Launchpad asked. "I'm starving!"

With all the fuss about Bushroot, I completely forgot about the other pressing matter, the bridge inspectors, until late that night. Naturally, this resulted in me panicking, and staying up until the wee hours trying to get the Tower cleared out. Unfortunately, this meant trying to move the heavy and it should be mentioned very dangerous crime-fighting equipment. Even more unfortunately, this resulted in me getting hurt far more than I want to admit. That's the problem with having equipment that's equipped with lasers. Any time they went off, they were usually aimed at me. Needless to say, I made absolutely no progress clearing out the Tower.

And so it was the next day that not only were the inspectors coming, but the rest of Honker's family was due to come back. The one good thing was that I knew the inspectors weren't going to arrive until Noon, at least. The Muddlefoots on the other hand showed up around Eleven in the morning.

"Hey, Drake-ster!" Herb proclaimed proudly as I opened the door. "We're back."

"_Hi_, Herb," I croaked around a yawn. Over the last two days, I'd gotten about eight hours of sleep, so of course I wasn't nearly at my best. Well, at least I was on my feet and dressed, that was progress.

"Hey, Honker, your family's here," I called. Then yawned again.

"Oh my_ gracious_, Drake, you look tired," Binky squeaked as she stuck her head around Herb.

"Yeah, uh...There was...Um...A midnight horror marathon and I didn't want to miss it,"

Fortunately, this was when Honker arrived, sparing me the hassle of making conversation with his parents.

"Why, there you are Honker," Herb said cheerfully. "We brought you back some coconut-burgers, but I think Tank ate 'em."

"And how was your weekend?" Binky asked.

"It was all right," Honker said quietly. "I-It was a lot different than I thought it would be, b-but Mr Mallard and the others were nice to me."

"Really?" Herb said. "Well, maybe we should do this more often."

I sighed.

By the time I'd finished dealing with the Muddlefoots, it was nearly Noon, when the inspectors were actually due. I had made absolutely _no_ progress in cleaning the Tower, so the only option I really had left was to try and persuade the inspectors to go elsewhere.

The two inspectors seemed a bit surprised to see me, but then again I suppose that was excusable, since they had probably never seen a superhero before, and were probably not expecting me.

"_Greetings_, citizens," I announced. "I just wanted to compliment you on your stellar job as city inspectors..."

"Yeah, whatever," one of them said. "Are you going to move out of the way so we can get our job done?"

"Um, well there's a tiny change in plans," I said improvising quickly. "It turns out that this tower's...Uh...Haunted. Yeah, it's haunted by the ghost of Greenbeard. And it turns out that he's not happy about the inspections, so he'll haunt you to the end of your days if you inspect his tower."

"Sh'yeah, _right_," the other inspector said. "You wouldn't happen to be hidinganything in that tower, would you?"

"Er.._No_! Absolutely nothing at all," I laughed. "No secret hideouts here, or anything like that."

"Well then, you wouldn't object if I did this," the first one said, as he opened the door to the Tower.

_"Gaah!" _I yelped, and very quickly pulled the guy away from the door. "Stop that! Remember what I said about the ghost of Greenbeard? Your eternal soul could be at _risk, _man! Why..."

"Nope, nothing there, Murray," the other inspector announced. I turned to seehim poking his head through the door. For a moment, his words didn't register. That door conveniently happened to be right by where we kept the Thunderquack, It was within view of the door, and it'd still been there when I'd passed it two minutes ago.

"What, wait a minute,_ nothing? How _could there be nothing there? There _can't_ be nothing there..."

"There sure is nothing there," the first guy said. "You must be from one of those prank shows, right? The ones that play pranks on people, then film it, right? Hey, are we going to be on TV?"

"Er...I'm not sure, I don't make these T.V. shows," I stammered awkwardly. "With all the people they're getting these days, you guys might end up on the cutting room floor...But, um, I'll try and talk to the boss and see if we can fit you guys in."

"Sure thing!" The second inspector said. "C'mon, Murray. We've only got one more tower to go, then we can go home and relax."

As the inspectors walked away, I turned and headed into the Tower. Sure enough, there was absolutely no sign of any of that crime-fighting clutter.

"What happened?" I wondered out loud. Had it been Launchpad? Possibly, although I had no idea how he had done it...No, wait. Didn't Gos say that Honker had some holographic projector? Yeah, that had to be it. She must've come up with a good excuse to "Borrow" it for a while. At least, I _hoped_ she had...

"Hey, Gos," I called. "It worked, they're leaving. You can turn off the projector now."

"M-Mister Darkwing, sir," a soft voice came from completely out of nowhere. Then, all of a sudden, the image of an untouched Tower faded out, to be replaced by the Tower that was my secret hideout. I turned around to see Honker of all people heading in my direction.

"Honker? But what...How did you...Did Gosalyn put you up to this?" That daughter of mine would be in some _serious_ trouble when I got my hands on her...

_"N-No!" _he said. "Er...I...Um....Uh...I...Ah..."

"Honker, _spit it out_."

"I-I-I pretty much knew who you were all along, Mister Mallard," he said in a rush.

"_What? _Okay, who told you? Gosalyn? Oh, I'm gonna ground her for a _year..."_

"S-s-she didn't tell me anything! I f-figured it out on my own!"

"How?" I asked. So much for keeping my secret identity a secret!

"Y-You...I mean, you never seemed to be in at night, and you're the only one I know that has pictures of Darkwing Duck in his house...A-And there's th-the trapdoor under the chairs...And Launchpad always calls you _'D.W.' _when he thinks I can't hear him...And..."

"Okay, that's enough. Wait a minute, you said you knew it all along, did you say anything to anyone?"

"N-no...I didn't say anything, because I wasn't sure if anyone would believe me...B-Besides, my D-Dad says he met you once, and y-you helped him, and you seemed like a nice guy...Well, um..."

"So, let me get this straight. You knew who I was for months, but never said a word to anyone...Even my own _daughter_. So, why're you here, now?"

"Um, I s-saw your reaction when they announced the bridge inspections, so I f-figured your secret base would be there...And after everything you did for me yesterday, I...Uh...Th-thought I'd help you."

I sighed. The truth was that I really had needed that help, but the fact that Honker had known my secret identity all along didn't help my situation that much.

"B-besides, Mister Darkwing, sir, I never...Um, got a chance to thank you for yesterday. Y-you're a really good guy for saving me like that."

"Don't worry about it, Honker. It's all part of the job. Actually, that reminds me...I should thank you, too. You've saved my secret hideout, and

if it wasn't for you, I'd be dog chow."

Honker blushed and suddenly became very interested in the floor "Um, I r-really appreciate what you said back there, too. Especially about 'them' being wrong sometimes. I needed to hear that."

"Yeah, I know. I'll tell you, the reason I became a crime-fighter in the first place was because 'they' said I couldn't do it. And now look at me! I'm a full-fledged crime fighter. I'm Darkwing Duck, for crying out loud!"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Hey, Honker," I said. "Would you like a tour? I mean, it's a little messy from my attempt to clear the place out, but all the fancy stuff's still there."

"S-Sure! I'd love to...Especially the library. I saw all the books there, I even saw some I haven't read yet."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" I asked. "And I can tell you the story of how I met the others on the way."


	4. Chapter 4

_"Sorry I'm a bit late," the Duck said as he walked into the room. "I had to take a bit of a detour when Quackerjack tried to replace all the video games with puzzles...Puzzles that self-destructed when they were complete!"_

_"Don't worry about it," the editor replied, as he took the latest manuscript._

_"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where I can find some more of that 'Avatar' show, would you?"_

_"'Avatar?'"_

_"Y'know, that martial arts cartoon that your intern showed us last time?"_

_The editor finally remembered that his intern had shown the Duck and his daughter some recent cartoon during their last visit. Something about elemental "Bending."_

_"You'd have to ask Dave, he's the one that has that series. I guess you liked it?"_

_"Now, why would an adult like me have any interest in a cartoon besides my own? Gos was the one that wanted it."_

_"Oh, and I suppose it's a coincidence that you were watching it with her and taking notes?"_

_"Er, well..." The Duck coughed awkwardly. "Some of those moves looked good enough that I thought I might try out one or two."_

_"Riiight," the Editor said and went back to the manuscript._

_"So, what d'you think?" The Duck asked._

_The editor skimmed through the story. "So far so good, that's three down."_

_"Yeah, and for the fourth story, I wanted to write a thrilling account of my favorite adventure, 'The Triumphant Triumph of Darkwing Duck...'"_

_"Sorry, Mister Duck," The editor told him. "We actually have a request for you. The company took a poll of everyone's favorite character from the series..."_

_"You did? Well, we all know who the number one character was, right?"_

_"Yes, we do...But, it's the uh...number two character we want you to write about, Negaduck."_

_"What?! That smug, sinister, snivelling scumbucket got number two? How did this happen? Aw, of all the characters...Why him?!"_

_The editor was, for once, very glad he had lied. He wasn't about to tell his client that Negaduck had, in fact, gotten the number one spot._

_"It must be the clothes," he said. _

* * *

Part 4: So Clovis and so far away

You humans really have odd tastes in character, you know that? Okay, maybe I'm overacting, and it's just this one publishing company that voted Negaduck of all characters in the top ten. I mean, who would vote for a stuck-up arrogant narcisstic guy like_ that_?

Anyways, I'm sure you want to learn about how we met Negaduck in the first place, and why he has no connection whatsoever to my evil half from that one time, but I'm not gonna write that one unless the publishing company gives me a nice fat bonus. I have my standards, you know. But, I'm digressing. You want a story about Negaduck, I'll _give _you a story about Negaduck. Just not the story you're expecting. It's a story full of my brave heroics and triumphs, a tale of twisted, tangled...Hmm, what would be a good word to describe it? Aw, never mind...I should stop before the good editor decides to cut me short.

For this one story, I'll be parting from the first-person perspective for a couple of scenes, just to give you a better idea of what was going on. I myself didn't know some of what was happening, which would've saved me and my family a lot of suffering if I had known what was starting...But then I wouldn't have had nearly as much of a story to tell.

Imagine if you would a ramshackle penthouse in a neighborhood so horribly degraded and despicable that it can only be described as "_the bad part of town_." In said penthouse, a woman calmly waited her turn outside the main office as the salesman that was ahead of her attempted his sales pitch on the one that owned the place.

"This is your lucky day, sir! I have a once-in-a-lifetime deal that will keep your moolah in your pocket! Check _this _baby out...The T-1000 automatic swiss army chansaw slices, it dices, it even comes with a handy iron extension if you need a permanent press in a hurry..."

"Hmm, looks promising, what else does it do?" the figure behind the desk said in a voice not unlike my own...At least if I were a twisted psychopath. He also looked very much like me, although the resemblance didn't go far. For one thing, I'm_ not _a raving lunatic bent on creating massive amounts of chaos and destruction. For another thing, he doesn't have much of a fashion sense. I mean, yellow? Sure, it may scream "I'm evil," but when you think about it, the color itself is pretty..._Ew_.

This total nutjob was Negaduck, a fellow who puts the "bomb" in abominable. He theoretically "owned" the penthouse, but that was more because he'd stolen the deed for the place from the previous owner. He's mean like that.

"You'll have your choice of all kinds of nasty chainsaw blades to choose from," the chainsaw salesman continued. "Including the classic straight blade, the Havana Hook, and the Moscow Mauler. But wait, there's more! We'll even throw in a free ball and chain all for the rock-bottom price of five hundred dollars...!"

There was an ominous "_click_," and the salesman suddenly found himself looking straight up the barrel of a very large gun.

"_How_ much?"

"Er...F-for you, good sir, f-free," the salesman stammered.

"Good. Now, if we're done here, you'd better get moving, before I test the iron extension on my new swiss-army chainsaw on your scrawny, worthless hide!"

The salesman turned and bolted as Negaduck laughed.

"I guess that guy was right, it_ was _my lucky day. Hmm, I need to find someone to test this baby out...So, who's up next?"

The woman waiting outside the door recognized her cue and stepped in.

"Well, what do we have here?" Negaduck asked. "What's an uptight-looking lady like yourself doing in a place like this?"

"I heard on the street that you were looking for an assistant," the woman responded calmly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot...I fired my last assistant. It was fun, too...Although the propane ran out much too soon."

The woman ignored his sardonic attempt at humor and placed a piece of paper on the desk.

"My resume."

Negaduck picked up the resume and scanned through it quickly.

"Not bad...Not bad at all. Taurus Bulba? I've heard of the guy. Too bad he bought it before I came here, I'm sure I would've enjoyed taking over his gig."

"Yes, I'm sure having the two of you in the city would probably destroy it," she replied. "So, am I working for you, or not?"

"Oh, you get the job, lady. Just show up tomorrow on time, and I'll see what you can do."

"Call me Clovis, and it's a deal."

And now you know what was going on, which is far more than I did. I had no clue that the emotions of both myself and those close to me were about to get dragged through the metaphorical gutter. No, my involvement in this case actually started on a bustling day, at the supermarket. I'd made the mistake of putting off shopping for dinner until the last minute, so Launchpad and I were caught in a swirling maelstrom of rush hour supermarket shoppers.

"Of all the times for this," I grumbled. "Why does_ every _person in the store have to be at the registers at the same time?!"

"Beats me," Launchpad said as he thumbed through a tabloid. "Hey, looks like Gloria Swansong's getting divorced again!"

"Oh for the love of...Those things are all the same! Scandals, divorces, and diets! Why can't they put some more wholesome things to read there?"

The customer before us finally got his stuff somehow crammed into one carriage, and left. The cashier started on my order, but I was somewhat annoyed to notice that there wasn't a bagger. In fact, I could only see one store employee bagging, and she was both overwhelmed by the rushing wave of customers, and at the other end of the line of registers.

"Great. I guess I'll have to pack it in," I said.

"Why don't you let me get it, D.W.," Launchpad offered.

"Because," I retorted irritably. "The_ last _time I let you bag the groceries, we had strawberries in our artichokes, grapes that were all over the place, and eggs that were scrambled in the carton. You just stand back and let a pro show you how it's done."

I moved to the end of the register and called to mind the long-dormant skills from my first job, which by a curious coincidence was as a bagger at a supermarket very similar to this one.

"All right...Heavy things first...Make a solid foundation with the boxes, then put the cans in between them..." I juggled a few cans for a moment just to display my delightful dexterity, before plonking them in the bag. "There! Now the frozen stuff. That goes seperately, so it won't melt quite so fast. Fruit goes by itself, too, so it won't turn brown or get squished. Finally the delicates. Those go on top, therefore nothing will fall and break." I finished the last bag and placed it deftly on top of the carriage.

"Yup-yup-yup. And_ that_, Launchpad, is how it's done."

"You got it, D.W.," Launchpad replied, not bothering to look up from his tabloid.

"Why do I even bother?" I asked.

Suddenly, I saw something out the window that made my heart sink down to my knees. A small flying object that bore a suspicious resemblance to my own Thunderquack. It was a Flash-Quack, one of those minature robots that SHUSH had created to stay in touch with me. But, what was it doing here? Especially since this was not a good time...And the_ worst _place possible...

The Flash-Quack must have found an open door or something, because the next thing I knew, it was zooming around over the registers, causing everyone in the lines to look up. I couldn't let that dumb Flash-Quack blow my secret identity out of the water. Thinking quickly, I climbed on to the nearest register, then as the Flash-Quack flew by, I made a dramatic leap, catching it mid-air before it could do any more damage. The momentum from the dive and the Flash-Quack sent me tumbling into the wall. I pulled myself to my feet, all too aware of the crowd of onlookers.

"Oh, look at this," I said in what I hoped was natural acting. "It looks as if some kid has lost their remote-controlled device. I shall have to go and find the lost and found."

"But, you're payin' for the food!" Launchpad protested. Growling under my breath, I shuffled the Flash-Quack so that one hand was free, pulled out my wallet, and shoved a wad of bills in his direction.

"You'd better keep the receipt," I told him. Then, in an undertone, "This could be a while. Get the groceries home, and make sure you put the cold stuff in the freezer this time!"

And then, I took the Flash-Quack and got out of there, before anything else could go wrong!

"So, what was so important that you had to send a Flash-Quack after me?" I asked as I entered J. Gander Hooter's office a half-hour later.

"Ah, Darkwing. I'm sure you realized that the matter was urgent," Hooter said. I stifled the urge to tell him that I hardly knew how urgent the matter was if I didn't know what the matter_ was _in the first place, but blowing up in his face was probably not the best thing to do.

"The reason I called you was that last night there was a burgalry. The laboratory that was broken into is currently being used by SHUSH, but what was stolen actually belonged to the former owner, Professor Waddlemeyer."

"What?" I exclaimed. He was Gosalyn's grandfather, and had died some time before I met Gos.

"We have reason to believe that the burglar stole the plans for Waddlemeyer's last invention, the Ramrod," Hooter continued. "And I know you were involved in the incident with the only one Waddlemeyer built, as well as the rescue of his grandaughter."

"Y-yeah, I was, wasn't I?" I had hoped that the last time would be the last time Gos was involved in something like that, I wondered how I was going to break the news to her...Or if I even wanted to.

"Additionally, the fact is that the first anniversary of Waddlemeyer's death is coming up. I'm not sure if this has any significance in this case, but we have to follow any lead we can."

"I know," I replied absent-mindedly. Inside, I was wondering how six months of my life with Gos could go so quickly. It almost felt like I'd known her for years instead of months.

I'd never been to the old Waddlemeyer lab before, mostly because I'd never had any reason to go before I'd met Gos, and after I met her, I just didn't have the heart to go poking around in her past. I'd known after I got involved with SHUSH that they'd taken over the labs once Waddlemeyer had died, from what I'd heard he had worked with SHUSH once or twice.

"You seem very pre-occupied today, Darkwing," Hooter said as we got out of his limosine.

"What? Oh, that. Don't worry, J. Gander, I'll solve this case _so_ fast, it'll look like child's play!"

"Ah, yes. Speaking of children, do you remember Waddlemeyer's grandaughter?

"Yeah, I remember her. She was a spunky little kid," I said.

"We don't think she will be involved again, but just in case anything comes up, we've sent an agent to inform her of the robbery last night."

I flinched. So much for keeping Gos from getting involved!

"You might be interested to know that she was adopted within two weeks of the original Ramrod incident," Hooter remarked.

"Oh, was she? Good for her. She sounded like she needed a real family when Imet her..." And what did she get, I couldn't help thinking. Well, it wasn't exactly a normal family, but then she wasn't exactly a normal person.

We entered the lab. It was a typical lab, with all your typical science stuff, not that I was paying much attention. I was still thinking of my daughter, and what I was going to say to her when I got home. Several of the SHUSH scientists that presently worked there came over to greet us.

"It's good of you to come so quickly," one of them said. "We were lucky we noticed the burgalry so fast...Normally we don't go to the old living quarters, but Ed needed a dehumidifier, and the closet where we kept it was next door to the living quarters. Ed noticed that the door was open..."

"You did well to call us," Hooter replied. "This is Darkwing Duck, by the way. He was involved in the Ramrod incident earlier this year. I believe that his expertise is essential to solving this case."

"Yup-yup-yup. That's me," I agreed, briefly forgetting my daughter in favor of my ego. "I'm the _essential expert_. Now, stand back. The excruciating excavation of evidence is dirty work."

I whipped out the old magnifying glass and began searching the room.

"Er...You might want to be careful, mister Duck," one of the scientists called. "We were testing out some SHUSH weapons..."

"Careful? Pfft. Darkwing Duck is always careful. I'm the carefullest of the careful...The sultan of safety...The warden of..."

I suddenly walked right into a large pane of metal. Looking up, I was rather surprised to see that it was one very big laser. What is it with me and lasers going off right in my face?

"...Watchfulness," I finished gracefully, as I brushed myself off.

"I think you're more likely to find evidence at the actual scene of the crime," the scientist remarked pointedly.

"Well, this is serious business," I shot back. "You never can underestimate these crafty crooks. Now, um...where was that crime scene?"

"Ah, here we are," Hooter said as we arrived on the second floor. The second door on the left opened to a very cluttered room, which was packed full of old furniture, random inventions, and other stuff. The scene could best be described as "Organized chaos." It actually reminded me a lot of my daughter's room...Adopted daughter, I corrected myself mentally. I guessed that she came by her slobbiness honestly.

"Unfortunately, we hadn't figured out what to do with Waddlemeyer's posessions," Hooter told me. "We were aware of where he kept the plans for the Ramrod, but after the last incident, it didn't seem like a good idea to bring the plans into the public eye, so we left the plans with the rest of his posessions. Some of his stuff will probably go to his grandaughter," he added, glancing at all the stuff around us. "Although I think that will wait until she is a little older. Here's the part where the plans were kept."

The spot Hooter indicated was under a bed, or rather had been under the bed. There was a massive pile of old magazines and books that had been moved, and were now squeaky clean where everything else was covered in dust. So much forfinding fingerprints!

"Okay, J. Gander," I said, trying to sound confident. "I can take it from here."

"Good luck, Darkwing," he replied. "We'll let you know if we find anything else."

As he left, I got down on my hands and knees to take a closer look at the moved stuff, with the hope of finding even a trace of a fingerprint. Not that I had any luck with that, of course. The thief had really cleaned those books off. I started flipping through the stack of magazines.

"Let's see...'Science bi-weekly', 'Technology today,' yeah that sounds like something an inventor would be interested in...'Sports in living color?' Must be Gos's..."

Then I saw a book towards the bottom of the pile.

"What's this?"

I opened the book up and realized that it was an old photo album. The first page had a picture of Gosalyn as a baby with what mut've been her parents. I'd never seen any pictures of Gos that young...I flipped over a couple of pages and saw that there were more pictures of her, first in her earliest days, then growing older as the pictures progressed. There was one of her, around two or three I guessed, sitting on her father's...her actual father's, I reminded myself...Shoulders at what looked like a Fourth of July celebration. Another picture had Gos at around four or five grinning broadly up at the camera as she held up a frog. Some things will never change, I thought.

I flipped through a few more pages, then noticed that the scenery in the pictures changed. The background was no longer a normal house, it was the lab I was standing in. That must've been when her parents died. I guessed her age in those pictures to be around six. I honestly had never talked to Gos about her real family. I'd always figured that if she wanted to talk about them, she would when she was good and ready. Although with the anniversary of her grandfather's death coming up, now might be the worst time to bring up her family...

I closed the book and sighed. It's kinda hard to describe how I felt, just then. I'd been so used to thinking of Gos as "my" daughter...That it was far too easy to forget that we weren't really related. She'd had her own life long before she met me. I looked down at the book, and then decided to take it with me.

I arrived at home still feeling really unsettled, and vaguely mopey. I was sort of hoping to find something to do to keep my mind off the subject of my daughter's former life. You know the old saying about being careful what you wish for? I sure got it.

My chair whirred up, and into an astounding amount of activity. Gosalyn was piling all kinds of things on the floor in front of the chairs, all the while keeping up a running chatter aimed at Launchpad, who was leaning on the doorframe with a somewhat bemused expression on his face.

"...The sink can stay," Gos was saying. "But, I'm still bringing the comic book collection, you never know when they're gonna come in handy. Oh, hi Dad. Here, would you hold this for a second?"

She crammed a duffel bag into my arms and promptly took off again.

"What the...?" I opened the bag a little, and was not at all pleased to see a few smoke bombs fall out.

"_Gosalyn_!" I yelped. She stuck her head back through the doorway.

"What is it? I still gotta pack..."

"Would you mind telling me where you're planning to go, and what you're planning to do with daddy's _smoke bombs_?"

"What do you think? I'm going to find that creep that broke into Grampa's lab."

"We heard from that SHUSH guy earlier," Launchpad explained. "Gos was trying to help..."

"Help?!" I groaned. "Gosalyn, how many times do I have to tell you that this is very dangerous work. You are_ not _coming with us, young lady."

"Oh, yes I am," she shot back. "It's_ my _Grampa's lab, _my_ Grampa's invention, _my _family, and_ I'm _gonna be the one to stop them!"

"We don't even know who did it," I said now feeling very exasperated. "And now I think you should leave the crime-fighting to the crime-fighter who has the skills for it."

"You and your skills! Dad, when was the last time you solved a case without any help? You _need_ me!"

"For your information, it was last week. And right now, I need _you _to put your deductive skills to doing the homework that was due on Tuesday!"

"Dad, I think the possibility of someone making a superweapon that can shatter buildings is more important than homework."

"I know it is, Gos," I told her. "Look, I just want you to stay out of this one, okay? You know how freaked I get when you get hurt. It'd be even worse for me if you got hurt risking your life on one of my cases. Now, maybe you put all this away before someone, namely me, trips over this and ends up slamming into the wall, like the last time."

Unfortunately, she wouldn't be disuaded so easily.

"What? Dad, I told you, it's _my _family...If you won't help me do this, I'll just do it on my own!"

"Oh, that does it," I snapped. "You are grounded! Now get to your room and stay there!"

She glared at me, and then stamped off upstairs. I sighed and sank back into the chair.

"Of all the stubborn, thick-headed..."

"Gee, D.W.," Launchpad said. "Gos was only trying to help. Maybe you should..."

"Launchpad, stay out of this, awright? This is between me and Gosalyn. You _know _how dangerous this job is...I..."

I was interrupted by a blaring alarm.

"The remote alarm terminal!" I exclaimed. "Sounds like some suspicious scoundrel is committing a crime! Launchpad, let's get dangerous!"

The Engineering Nexus Development Incorporated building, at the north end of town was the scene of the crime. As we pulled up in the Ratcatcher, I could clearly hear the burglar alarm going off.

"Okay, here's the plan," I told Launchpad. "You go around the back just in case they try to get out that way, and I'll take the front."

"You got it, D.W.," he said.

I waited a minute for him to get around to the back, then opened the front door and went in. E.N.D, Inc., as the name implied, was famous for its' engines. As a matter of fact, even I used some of their products. Once I'd scanned the first floor, I moved on up the darkened stairs to the research section. This was the part where they created all their engines. As I reached the landing, I heard a noise coming from one of the testing labs. Well, something told me that this was where the criminal was. I poked my head into the room long enough to notice that not only was this where my soon-to-be convict was, but that it was someone I already knew.

"Negaduck!" I whispered. "So, _he's_ behind this?"

Negaduck was standing by a bubbling pot of metal towards the back of the room. His back was turned to me, giving me an excellent oppritunity for a surprise attack...However, this was _me_ here. Why bother with a surprise attack when you can make a big entrance?

"I am the terror that flaps in the night...I am the bubble that ruins an otherwise flawless piece...I am Darkwi..."

He suddenly turned and flung something at me.

"Catch!"

Well, I probably should've dodged it, but I had no clue what it was, and my stunning reflexes were good enough that I actually caught it...

And "It" turned out to be a blisteringly hot bar of iron.

"_Yow_!" I yelped, dropping it. I glared irritably at my now sore hands, and tried blowing on them in an effort to cool them down.

"Aw, I'm sorry," Negaduck said with all the sincerity of a used car salesman as he tossed away the tongs he'd used to pick the bar up. "Did I interrupt your big intro? What a shame."

"Yeah, such a shame," I replied. "Since where _you're_ going, you won't see anything like it for a long time."

"Oh, I won't see anything like it ever again," he agreed as he pulled a large gun out of his cape. Fortunately, I was quick enough to duck behind the nearest vat of boiling metal. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the vat, giving me some time.

"Ooh, looks like that vat's too strong for _this_ gun," Negaduck's voice came from the other side of the vat. "Maybe I should try something bigger."

He was probably going to pull a bigger gun out of his cape, I thought. I swiftly finished changing the cannister on my gas gun.

"Maybe _you _should try holding on to your hat," I retorted as I darted out from behind the vat. Sure enough, Negaduck now held a bazooka aimed at the vat. I squeezed the trigger on the old gas gun, spraying Negaduck with liquid. He laughed.

"Maybe _you _should try something with a little more bang to it." He started to aim his bazooka at me, but then he lost his grip on it because of the slippery oil that that cannister had held.

"Ha!" I exclaimed. "Maybe _you _should try fighting smart instead of dirty!"

The bazooka fell out of Negaduck's hands and hit the floor, then went off. This wouldn't be so bad, except that it was still aimed in my direction.

"_Gah_!" I yelped, as I dodged the shot. The blast blew a fairly large hole in the wall, giving me a good view of the streets below.

"Ha and _double_ ha," I said. "I'm too delightfully dextrous to get caught by that. And speaking of _'caught_,' Negaduck, you are most definitely caught..."

And that's when, while I was heading over in Negaduck's direction, I slipped on a puddle of oil and went sliding, straight out of the room and right for the stairs, and directly down them.

"_Ow_..." I croaked as I picked myself up off the floor. "Shaken and smarting, but still standing, Darkwing Duck can never be kept down..."

I staggered to my feet and realized that I was surrounded by pitch darkness. Well, I could work very well in darkness, I was Darkwing Duck for crying out loud! The one complication was that it was kinda hard for me to _see_ in the darkness. I began searching for the stairs, only to find myself slammed back down to the ground by an enthusiastic, but very much mistaken, Launchpad.

"_Hey_, I got him, D.W.! I_ got _him!" He cried, as he pinned me to the floor. Needless to say, having one's face flattened firmly to the floor is hardly a fun experience.

"Launshpad, will you ge'off?" I demanded around a beakful of floor. He clearly didn't get the hint.

"Oh, no you don't! I'm not falling for _that _one!"

"Launshpad, ish me! How _shtupid _could you poshibly be?!"

"Aw, D.W., I'm not stupid," he said. I rolled my eyes. It took him about two more seconds to realize who he was talking to.

"Oh...Er..._Oops. _Sorry, D.W."

"Never mind," I growled as he got off me. "We have to stop Negaduck..."

There was a sudden very loud rumble coming from outside the building.

"...And I think I know where to find him," I finished.

Sure enough, as we ran out of the building, there was Negaduck sitting on top of a very large tank.

"I'm not letting you get away this time!" I said, pulling out the gas gun. "As _slippery_ as you are, you might find yourself slip-sliding away!"

In retrospect, my mistake wasn't trying to make the tank slippery enough to crash, which was what I was about to do. It was making that witty remark, which kinda gave him time to aim. the next thing I knew, I was at the bottom of a sizable crater, courtesy of a colossal cannonball.

"Oph awl th'...Gedd me _ouda_ here!"

As Launchpad pulled my pancaked patilla out from under the cannonball and shook me back into shape, I had an excellent view of Negaduck's tank taking off via hoverjets and flying off.

"So long, losers! I'm off to make something even bigger...It'll just blow you away!"

By the time I could safely call myself three-dimensional again, he was gone.

"Aw, he got away again!" I whined.

"Well, yeah," Launchpad agreed. "But, look on the bright side, D.W."

"What bright side? Negaduck got away with some powerful superengine, and is going to use it to create a bigger weapon of mass destruction, and we have no idea what it is, or where his hideout is. Where's the bright side in_ that_?!"

"Um, at least Gos didn't get here until it was all over," he said pointing in the other direction. I turned to see my daughter riding up on a skateboard.

"Aw, don't tell me I missed everything!" She exclaimed. "Who _was _it, anyways? Negaduck?"

"Gosalyn, I told you to stay home!"

"No way! I told _you_ that there's no way I'm gonna miss out on this one. It's my Grampa's invention, and _I'm_ gonna be the one to find it!"

"Oh, for...This isn't some kind of video game, Gosalyn! This is _reality_ here. We don't even know if this robbery has anything to do with the one at your grandfather's lab. Besides, I don't think any self-respecting supervillian is gonna take a kid like _you _seriously."

"Oh yeah, like_ all _supervillians take _you_ seriously. And I suppose you carry eight-by-ten glossies and signing pens for crime-fighting purposes?"

"You leave my glossies out of this," I groaned trying not to flinch at that low blow. "Look, Gos, you're missing the point. This is extremely dangerous, and I know how much your grandfather meant to you, but you can't try and solve this case on your own!"

"I can't just sit back and let some creep get away with breaking into our lab, either," she retorted. "My Grampa said, 'a life lived in fear is a life half lived'..."

"Your grandfather was an inventor. He didn't go looking for trouble!"

"No, but trouble sure found us. What, did you think the inventor's life was safe, or something? We had people try to bribe us, threaten us, we even had a break-in or two!"

"And I suppose your grandfather just sat back and let you handle it?"

I honestly meant no offense by that comment, I was trying to imply that her grandfather wouldn't want her to risk her life. Unfortunately, I phrased that the wrong way, and she took it the wrong way.

"Ooh, don't you insult my Grampa!"

"I wasn't _trying_ to! All I was saying..."

"He was at_ least _as brave as you are, and I know that if he were still around he'd want me to keep his invention away from bad guys. In fact, he'd say that I was a brave girl because I don't want to sit around, and do nothing!"

"I'm not saying you're not brave..." I began.

"Darn right, you're not! I'm gonna find that guy, and show him who I am!"

I sighed. "Actually, it'd be easier to do that if we knew where he went. Look, Gos, we should get home. Once I can get to the tower, I can at least see if whatever Negaduck stole could be used to build a Ramrod."

"So, it _was _Negaduck after all."

I flinched. "Yes it was, but we don't know if he's the guy you're looking for, let alone where he's hiding out. Let's go...I think the cops will be here soon."

"Well, it looks like the report on the E.N.D, Inc. robbery is in," I told Launchpad three hours later, looking up from the Tower's computer.

"Yeah? What's it say, D.W.?" He asked as he tightened a screw on the Ratcatcher.

"I don't know how, but it looks like_ two _things were stolen. One is a high-octane THX-1138 engine, built for tanks and such..."

"What's the other thing?"

I hefted out a big sigh. "A Nexus-1701 atom-splitter...That just happens to be the same kind of engine used in the original Ramrod."

A chilling silence ensued.

"D'you think that Negaduck's the one that's trying to build a Ramrod?" Launchpad asked.

"It's not his style. He's more big on tanks and things that go _'boom_,' but I can't ignore the possibility that he's trying to build another Ramrod."

"What's Gos think?"

"I don't know. She was waiting for that report...I hope she didn't sneak off to try and find Negaduck."

Thankfully, Gosalyn was still right where I'd left her, playing video games on the Tower's TV. Only now the TV was off, and she was curled up asleep in the nearby easy chair.

"Would you look at that?" Launchpad asked as we headed over. "Guess all that waiting must've worn her out."

"Nah, it's just late," I replied. "I guess I'd better get the little sprite to bed before she wakes up."

I picked her up, and almost fell over.

"Oof! She's getting heavy!"

"Well, she is a growing girl," Launchpad replied.

"Yeah, she is growing, isn't she?" All of a sudden, I remembered that she wouldn't be this young forever. In a few years, she'd be old enough to drive and go out on dates...

That thought chilled me more thoroughly than that Van der Chill lady's breath.

And that was more than enough to keep my mind occupied as I took Gos back through the tunnel and home. I pushed the door to her room open, but as I reached out to find the light switch, I stepped on a baseball that Gos had apparently forgotten to pick up. Fortunately, my stupendous agility was more than enough to keep me on my feet, but there were a few seconds where I nearly fell over, which would've been bad, considering that I was carrying my daughter.

"_Whew_," I sighed as I glanced at the baseball. "I'm gonna have to have a long talk with that girl..."

I gently put Gos down on her bed.

"...But, it can wait until tomorrow."

She looked so peaceful when she was asleep. I couldn't help smiling as I looked down at her.

"Sweet dreams, Gos." I said, pulling her blanket over her shoulders.

Meanwhile, in the basement of that penthouse in the bad part of town, Clovis industriously worked on attatching wires to a metal plate. She paused when she heard a noise from upstairs, then placed the plate onto a pile of metal parts, pulled a nearby blanket over the mess, then headed up the stairs. The deserted alley outside the penthouse was now rather crowded, with a largeish tank hovering in for a landing.

"You're back late...How was the haul?" She asked.

"Yeah well, I got distracted on the way back," Negaduck replied, sticking his head out of the tank. "Hamburger Hippo had cute little fuzzy squirrel plushies in their kids meal, and I couldn't resist stealing a few to burn."

"You never seem to run out of things to burn," Clovis sighed. "So, did you get that engine?"

"I got the engine. It went almost perfectly. It would've been perfect if I'd offed Darkwing, but why kill him with a mere tank when I can blow the whole _neighborhood _up with a five-megaton supertank?"

"You and your wholesale destruction..."

"Well, what other kinds of destruction _are _there?" Negaduck laughed. "So, what's on the schedule for tomorrow?"

"Let's see..." Clovis pulled a small clipboard out of her pocket. "You've got three gangs to intimidate in the morning, a mob boss to see about donating to the 'make Negaduck happy' fund, five double-crossings to arrange against other competing criminal cartels, plus a new chainsaw to test in the afternoon, the evening is mostly free until that heist at the Blockblaster millitary supply store around 9:45."

"Oh yeah, that place. I've hit that store a few times...I've even used the stuff I stole from it to hit the jewelry store across the street, What was I gonna steal from there again?"

"Treads, actually. It closes at 10, so I figure that fifteen minutes before it closes would be the best time."

"That way, they won't have their security systems up yet, but it'll be late enough that they won't be thinking straight, right?"

"That's the plan," Clovis replied.

"Good thing I hired you," Negaduck said. "You're the best one I've seen at keeping my random rampages and robberies from getting in the way of each other. Which is good, because I wouldn't have as much time to work on stealing stuff for the supertank...I can't wait until I see the look on that Darkwing's face when I blow him off the face of the earth with the new supertank!"

Clovis smiled slightly as Negaduck's laughter echoed through the alley.

Returning to the far-easier-to-write-from first person view, the next day I could honestly say I was stumped.

"You'd think that a 20-foot-long hovertank would be easy to track down," I whined irritably, glaring at the computer. I didn't get any response, but that was because I was the only one in the Tower at the time. Gos was at school, and Launchpad was off doing some volunteer work at the local airfield. So, I was on my own, for a few hours at least. Not that I got much done in those few hours. They were nearly up...And Gos would be home, soon. She'd probably try and "borrow" some of my crime-fighting equipment and go looking for Negaduck again. I decided that this was a good time to go and put that stuff where she couldn't get it.

Still, that didn't mean the E.N.D., Inc. robbery was far from my mind.

"Why would Negaduck want to steal _two_ engines?" I asked out loud as I picked up a box of smoke bombs. "A tank only needs one engine...Is he building both a tank and another Ramrod? I didn't see him steal the other engine, but then it took us a few minutes to get there...The only way I can think of for Negaduck to steal both engines is if he did it before we arrived..."

That made sense, but it didn't really explain why he took _both_ engines, when he only needed one.

"That is,_ if _he took both engines," I continued. "Negaduck isn't likely to work with anyone. He makes _me_ look like a team player. But, for someone else to break in at the exact same time and place, they'd have to know in advance that Negaduck would be there, or somehow have a one-in-a-million lucky shot..."

While I had seen luck like that before, I sincerely doubted that the alleged "Second Stealer" would just "happen" to rob the same place at the same time as Negaduck.

So, that left me with two possibilities. Either Negaduck stole both engines for some reason, or he was working with someone for some strange reason...

...Someone who could be trying to build another Ramrod...

I shook my head and put the smoke bombs on a nearby shelf which was out of Gos's reach. I had to solve this case...Before Gosalyn could get any _more_ involved!

Dinner that night was somewhat awkward. I really didn't feel like arguing with Gos, and I think she was still upset because I wouldn't let her help. The only one of us that was trying to act something resembling social and family-like was Launchpad, and even then the awkward pauses after he said something were enough to ground a loopy optimist like him.

It didn't help the situation that Gos had homework after dinner. I think the situation we were in had frazzled both our nerves enough that Gos and I were ready to snap at each other at the least excuse. Naturally, we spent a good twenty minutes yelling at each other. I sent her to her room again, then stormed back into the living room in a total huff.

"Not _one_ word," I growled irritably at Launchpad as he looked up from where he was sitting on the couch. "I don't want to hear anything about Gos or this situation, okay?"

"Uh...You got it, D.W. Hey, how about some T.V.? That'll help take your mind off it."

Unfortunately, the best the T.V. had to offer was "Pelican's Island." While this was a good distraction for Launchpad, the fact was that I really didn't like that show, and in a roundabout way that made it worse. The only other thing I could think about was Gosalyn, and the possibility that someone could be building another Ramrod. That made me desperate to think about something else, but since the only other thing I could think of to think about was the T.V., and "Pelican's Island"...Well, it was a bit of a vicious cycle.

After an hour and a half of this, something happened to that took both of our minds off "Pelican's Island." (Thank goodness!) It was the Remote Alarm Terminal going off again.

The millitary supply store, Blockblaster, was definitely the type of place Negaduck would rob. In fact, he already had five times. It was a bad place for a store like that, especially with the Silverscope Jewelry store right across the street. I'd already pointed that out to the owners of both stores,but I guess the convenient location was worth the risk to them, because they stubbornly refused to move.

"Aw, why did he have to rob Blockblaster again?" I whined, as Launchpad and I arrived. "The last time he hit this place, it took a _week_ for my ears to stop ringing!"

"Yeah," Launchpad agreed. "So, what's the plan, D.W.?"

"Plan?"

"Y'know, the hero is always supposed to have a great plan. We can't just go rushing in, that would be _dumb_."

"Well, um," I said trying to cover the fact that until a second ago, that had actually been my plan. Luckily, I was able to plot a plan, _pronto_.

"Of _course_, I have a plan. What kind of hero would I be if I didn't have one? I'll set off a smoke bomb at the front door. Negaduck will think I'm trying to make a big entrance again, and shoot the smoke. While he's busy with that,we'll go in through a window. How's_ that _for a great Darkwing plan?"

"Sounds good to me, D.W."

"Then, let's get dangerous!"

The plan actually went very well. I set off the smoke bomb, then made a break for it as all kinds of explosions went off where the bomb was. Then while that was going on, Launchpad and I circled around to the side of the building and found a window to go through.

"No sign of Negaduck," Launchpad remarked as we crept through the darkened aisles. "D'you think he's still shooting at the smoke bomb?"

"Either that, or he's convinced that he blew us to smithereens, and is now laughing maniacally," I said. "The old plan worked like a charm. You see,

with Negaduck, you have to fight smart, not dirty. Use the old head. I can think my way out of any situation!"

There was a "_pop"-_ing sound from off to my left. I looked up just in time to see a massive glob of greenish goo as it engulfed us.

"Ugh! What the...?"

We were both buried waist-deep in the goo. Well, Launchpad's waist, anyways. Which meant my wrists.

"Well, look at _this_," Negaduck drawled as he materialized out of the gloom. "It looks like the glue gun I found worked...Too bad it didn't get your mouth. I could hear your yapping a mile away!"

I made a mental note to work on keeping my big mouth shut.

"So, how does being cut up into tiny little pieces sound?" Negaduck asked. "No? Well, I can't think of anything more painful, so I guess that's how it's gonna end for you." He pulled a chainsaw out of his cape and advanced on us menacingly.

I had to find a way out of this, and fast! I looked around quickly and saw a Catch-42 "Lil' Jumbo" automatic logcutter a few feet away. As a matter of fact, it was nearly within reach of Launchpad.

"Launchpad," I whispered. "See that logcutter there? Can you reach it?"

"I think so," he said.

"Good. I'll keep Negaduck busy."

I turned back to Negaduck. He was exactly like me, right? What was the thing that I hated the most? Well, one of them, anyways. Something that Negaduck and I both hated...

"No,_ nononono_. You're doing it all wrong," I exclaimed. "And you call yourself a supervillian? What a waste!"

He stopped. "What?"

"Chopping your mortal enemy into itty-bitty pieces is _so_ out. It's ancient history, _pase_, older than the dinosaurs."

"Hey, what's wrong with chopping you into pieces? If _you _can think of a more spectacular way to go, I'd like to hear it."

"Well for starters, nobody's doing it anymore. Do you want to look like a rookie? You're a_ professional_, man." I told him.

"Wait a minute, I'm not stupid. This is a trick, isn't it?"

I tried not to flinch. "Of _course_ not. This isn't a trick. It's...Um...Just that I heard some of the other villians talking about you the other day..."

"What? What did they say about me?"

"Well, I really shouldn't say it, it'll make you angry..." Not that Negaduck really needed much encouragement.

"Tell me, or I'll blast you you off the face of the earth!"

"They said you're staler than month-old bread."

"_What_?!" Negaduck spluttered. "Okay, which one said that? I'll tear him limb from limb!"

"As a matter of fact, it was Dr. Slug. Good luck finding limbs to tear."

"Oh, that...I'll take care of_ him _right after I take care of _you_! Chopping you into itty-bitty pieces might be yesterday's torture, but I'm bringing it back, baby!"

I heard a "whirrr" behind me as the automatic logcutter came to life.

"Yeah?" I retorted. "Well, you're not the _only _one who can make a comeback!"

The logcutter went right through the glue, freeing me and Launchpad. Then, it suddenly broke free of Launchpad's grip and scurried off on its' own.

"Now surrender, Negaduck," I said, pulling out the gas gun and pointing it at him.

"Uh, D.W...." Launchpad called from behind me.

"Not _now_, Launchpad. Can't you see I'm busy being heroic?"

"But, D.W., the cutting thingy's...

"Launchpad..." I turned to glare at him, then I realized that the logcutter was still running amok. To be more specific, it was running amok right in the direction of the very large display of dynamite...

"Why does this always happen to _me_?" I gulped. Then the two of us suddenly had to get out of there very quickly, making it out of Blockblaster right before it exploded.

"Whew," Launchpad said as we shook off the rubble that had been part of Blockblaster. "That was close!"

"Yeah,_ too _close," I grumbled, shaking rubble out of my hat. "Wait, where'd Nega..."

I got my answer as I found myself drowned out by the sounds of Negaduck's hovertank firing up.

"So, Dr. Slug thinks I'm _stale_," Negaduck called from on the top. "Well, maybe I should bring something fresh and new to the list, like the new machine I'm cooking up. Let's see how stale Dr. Slug thinks I am when he's hovering ten thousand feet above the city!"

"Hovering?" I exclaimed, as my heart fell. There was only one machine I could think of that made things float like that..."So, _you're_ the one that's trying to build another Ramrod?"

"Maybe I am," he said, "But you aren't gonna be able to stop me!" He laughed as his hovertank took off.

"Oh, yeah?" I retorted as I quickly pulled out the gas gun and stuck the grappling hook into place. Well, thanks to my spectacular aiming skills the hook caught on the ladder on the side, and as a result I was pulled off my feet as the hovertank flew over the rooftops, taking me on a wild ride. I was trying to reel the rope of the grappling hook in, so I could get into the tank and stop Negaduck.

Unfortunately, I'd kinda neglected to factor in that I was dangling from a floating hovertank flying through the labyrinthine maze of buildings. After about two minutes of getting myself slammed into buildings, my rope managed to get caught on a flagpole (Why do people insist on leaving those things right where I can get dragged into them?) Naturally, I ended up wrapped on the flagpole, like a coat on a hanger.

"Aw, not _again_..." I whined. "Does the world have something against me, or something?"

And of course, that's when the flagpole started breaking.

"...Don't answer that." I finished.

Then I saw something that made me do a double take. Someone was lowering a rope from the window above me. Someone who really shouldn't have been there...

"Hey, Dad. Grab this!"

"Gosalyn!" I spluttered. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Well duh, saving you. Unless you really want to fall ten stories and become a pancake."

"Oh, for..." I managed to wriggle a hand free from the rope that tied me enough to grab the other rope. Just in time, too. Ten seconds later, the flagpole finished breaking and I was dangling ten stories above the ground. Luckily, that was when the rope I was holding on to started pulling me up and back onto solid ground.

"Another daring escape," I panted as I fell over the windowsill. Who'd have thought solid ground could feel so good? I glanced over at the other end of the rope that had saved me, and noticed that it was tied to a large file cabinet at the other end of the room.

"You really oughta lose some weight," Gos grumbled as she headed over.

"_Grr..." _Talk about adding insult to injury...

"For your information, I'm in tip-top shape. Now, what are you doing here?! You're supposed to be grounded!"

"Well, I told you, you can't keep me out of this one! I saw the news report on TV...I'd have been there earlier, but it took me a while to find my skateboard."

"You weren't supposed to find it at _all," _I groaned. "Now, let's get you out of here!"

We were still arguing five minutes later as we exited the building.

"I'm not leaving. I'm going to find Negaduck, and I'm..."

"Going to get hurt, or worse if you do! Gosalyn, I know you're trying to be helpful, but..."

"Hey! D.W.! There you are!" I looked up to see Launchpad running over.

"Launchpad! Did you see where Negaduck went?" Gos asked him.

"Um, nope. But, I did find this." He held up my somewhat battered gas gun. I sighed and took it back.

"Great. Now, we just have to get 'Indiana Mallard' here back home, then we can actually start looking for Negaduck."

"Aw, I'm not going! It's my Grampa's invention..."

"Yeah, and your funeral! Gos, you don't know how _dangerous_ this is!"

"Dad, I think I know what I'm getting into. It can't be all that hard, you do it every day..."

"'Can't be all that hard,'" I imitated her sarcastically. "Look, Gos, I've had enough. You're not getting involved in this one, period, finito, end of discussion. Now, you'd better get back home, young lady, before I ground you for a _month_!"

I deliberately turned my back on her so I wouldn't have to see her face. Gos had raised the practice of making sad eyes to a fine art, and I really didn't want to get suckered in this time.

"We have to find Negaduck. Launchpad, let's get to the Tower. With any luck, we'll find Negaduck before he finishes making that Ramrod!"

That was when Launchpad made the biggest blunder of the night.

"Hey, cheer up, Gos! You can still help...Tell you what, while D.W. takes care of things at the Tower, I'll take you up in the Thunderquack and we can go look for Negaduck!"

"Really?"

Unfortunately, that was precisely the last thing I wanted to hear. It was bad enough that Gosalyn wanted to "help" with this case, but for Launchpad to offer to take her and try to find a dangerous maniac like Negaduck? I wasn't about to let that happen.

"Oh, no you _don't_!" I growled. "I need you at the Tower in case something happens. You're staying with me!"

"He is_ not_," Gos retorted as she grabbed Launchpad's arm and began pulling him towards her. "He's coming with me to find Negaduck!"

"Oh, yeah?" I asked irrtiably. "Well,_ I _need him at the Tower, so he's coming with _me_!" And I grabbed Launchpad's other arm and started pulling him the other way.

"Uh, guys..." Launchpad began, but by that point we'd both pretty much forgotten him.

"Well, I didn't hear him offer to help _you. _He's coming with _me_!" Gos shouted as she pulled the unfortunate Launchpad her way.

"Yeah? Well, he's not_ your _sidekick. He's _my_ sidekick, and he's going with _me_!" I shot back as I pulled him the other way.

"Um, guys, there's enough of me to go around," Launchpad tried to say, but we were both too angry at each other to hear him.

"Oh,_ I _understand. Mister big-shot hero gets to keep his sidekick, while the girl whose old _home_ got robbed has to go home and sit and wait? I don't _think _so! We're going to look for Negaduck!"

"'_We?!' We're_ not doing anything. _You're_ going home, and Launchpad is coming with _me!"_

"Er, guys, would you..."

"He is_ not_! It's _my_ family,_ my _life, and_ I'm _gonna do this! He's coming with _me_!"

Fortunately for my hapless sidekick, something whizzed by my head. I recognized it as a Flash-Quack, and was distracted enough to let go of Launchpad, sending both sidekick and daughter tumbling into an undignified heap. I grabbed the Flash-Quack and opened the note inside it.

"Now wha...Oh, _no_!"

"What's it say, D.W.?" Launchpad asked as he picked himself up and shook his arms off.

"SHUSH has compiled a list of what was stolen...There were military-grade treads stolen from Blockblaster...But, it looks like there was also a robbery at the jewelry store across the street from Blockblaster at the same time..."

"So, what was stolen?" Gos demanded. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"A hundred-carat diamond...Just the kind the Ramrod needed to focus its' beam. What's worse, that and the engine were the most expensive things that your grandfather used to build the Ramrod...The rest was common enough that anyone could buy it at a hardware store."

"_What?!" _They both said at the same time.

"Okay, Launchpad, you want to help, right? Here's something for you to do. Get Gosalyn home, and make sure she doesn't leave."

"_What_?" Gos protested. "You aren't..."

"Do it, and I'll...Uh..." I sighed. "I'll let you cook dinner for the next week."

"Aw, you're _bribing _him?! _No fair_!"

"Really?" He asked. "But, you said that you wouldn't let me cook again if it was the last thing you did."

"Never mind what I said," I told him. "Look, do you want to cook or not?!"

"Sure, I even saw a new recipe I wanted to..."

"Good. You can think of new recipes after this is over! Just keep Gos at home, and out of trouble, okay?"

Of course, I wasn't actually planning on _eating_ Launchpad's cooking, but it was the only way I could think of to persuade him to make sure Gos stayed at home.

"You got it, D.W.! I'll keep her at home...You can count on me!"

"Thanks," I told him.

"Yeah, thanks a_ lot_, Launchpad," Gosalyn grumbled sarcastically.

"You'd better get going," I said. "It's getting late, and I think that if you hurry, you can catch the end of that 'Pelican's island' marathon."

"Hey, _yeah_!" Launchpad said enthusiastically. "They were gonna show the one where he finds that funny computer...That was one of your favorites, right Gos?"

"I guess...Although I kinda liked the field trip one better..."

While they discussed "Pelican's Island," neither of them noticed me slipping away.

I had to find Negaduck..._Before_ he could use that Ramrod!

And now I must depart once again from the first-person perspective. Over in Negaduck's penthouse, Clovis opened the front door, stuck her head in, looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then opened the door the rest of the way and walked in. She pulled the diamond she had just stolen out of her pocket, smiled at it for a moment, then put it back.

Then Clovis heard a sound. It sounded suspiciously like the basement door opening and closing. She stiffened, then cautiously headed for the basement herself. Going down the stairs, Clovis was rather startled to see Negaduck turning away from the blanket-covered machine in the corner of the room.

"Oh, _there _you are," Clovis said, hiding her surprise rather well. "I was looking for you. I thought you got delayed again."

"Nah, I was looking for _you_," Negaduck replied. "I was...Uh...Wondering if you had the rampaging schedule for the new supertank up yet?"

"I have most of it done, but I wanted to check on the supertank to see how much firepower it had. It wouldn't be good to get all the way to the gold depository, only to find out you couldn't blow the door off."

"That's no problem. That supertank has enough firepower to make melting through foot-thick _steel_ look like roasting marshmallows. How soon d'you think you can give me a full rampaging schedule?"

"Give me a half-hour," Clovis told him.

"Good. That's about as long as it'll take for me to get the treads on the supertank. I'd better get going, then. The more time I spend yakking, the less time I have to rampage and blow things up!"

As Negaduck pushed past her and moved off, Clovis glanced at the machinery under the blanket. He couldn't possibly have seen it...Could he?

Clovis pulled the blanket off the machine, and looked her nearly complete Ramrod over. It was just as she'd left it. If Negaduck had done anything to it, she couldn't see it. Besides, she told herself, he'd only actually been down there for a few seconds at the most. And that was assuming he actually knew about it. Still, this wasn't the time to take chances. She would have to do something about Negaduck, and soon...

She'd already put her plan to do that in motion.

A half-hour later, I was at the Tower, trying my best to figure out where Negaduck had gone.

"Okay, this is Negaduck here," I said as I poked at the computer. "He's probably holed up in some rathole on the bad side of town, probably somewhere with a lot of room. It's not easy to build a superweapon in a small place. So, I just need to search all the big places...But, that could take years! I don't think I have more than a few hours, at most. How am I supposed to _find_ him?!"

I was interrupted by a loud rumble. Looking out the windows, I could see an explosion over by the bad part of town.

"...And then again," I finished gracefully. "Maybe finding Negaduck might be easier than I thought.

And as a matter of fact, Negaduck was the source of the explosion. He was rolling down Peach Place in a gigantic tank. Naturally, he was also creating a long trail of distruction behind him. I could (And did) easily follow the trail on the Ratcatcher.

"Geez," I remarked. "Negaduck is as subtle as always."

Fortunately, the twin facts that he was in a very large tank, and he kept pausing to shoot at things with said tank meant it was fairly easy to catch up with him.

"I have to find some way to stop that thing..." I said, as I pulled the Ratcatcher to a screeching halt, and jumped off.

I suddenly realized that there was a steam vent on the side of the tank. Judging by all the steam that was coming out of it, I guessed that it was near the engine. If I could somehow shoot through the steam vent hard enough to take out the engine behind it, it would stop the tank in its' tracks. Well, I _hoped_ it would, anyways. It was a bit of a long shot, but that sort of thing always worked in the movies.

I paused to switch my gas gun from grappling hook to explosives, then took aim at the steam vent.

Little did I know that Clovis watched the scene from a nearby rooftop. She noted that I was about to shoot, then pulled a remote control out of her pocket and pressed a button.

The explosive cannister went right through the vent, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, nothing happened. Then, there was a sudden explosion from somewhere in the tank, and the giant vehicle slowed to a halt.

"I did it?" I gasped in disbelief. "Er, I mean once again the peerless protagonist has saved the day!"

The tank's hatch popped open, and Negaduck staggered out accompanied by a billowing cloud of smoke.

"_Argh! Gah! _ Of all the lousy...Remind me to wear a gas mask the next time I try this!

"There won't _be_ a next time, Negaduck!" I said as I levelled the gas gun at him. "You've been stopped! Now, surrender!"

"Never!" Negaduck shouted, pulling a bazooka out of his cape.

Clovis pushed another button on her remote.

All of a sudden, there was another explosion from inside the tank, practically under Negaduck's feet. This one had the effect of knocking Negaduck off the tank, and onto the pavement. Fortunately, I was quick enough to take advantage of the situation, and had Negaduck tied up before he had a change to react.

"What the...Aw, man!" He whined. "I _hate_ it when this happens!"

"It's over, Negaduck!" I told him. "When are you going to learn that that the bigger a tank is, the easier it is to hit its' weak spot?"

"Yeah? Well, you haven't heard the last of me!"

"That's what they _all _say," I replied, then looked up as I heard the sound of approaching sirens.

"...But, you can tell that to the cops," I finished, as I started to make a dramatic exit.

"Well, in case you've forgotten, that's not the only superweapon I had...And the instant that I bust out of prison, I'll crank that Ramrod up and turn every building in this city into rubble!" Negaduck laughed maniacally.

I stopped in my tracks.

"The Ramrod!"

But the sirens were getting too close for comfort.

"We'll have time to talk about this later...A lot of time." And I made good my escape.

Clovis smiled as she walked along the empty streets. Now, Negaduck was out of the way, and the only one who could interfere had no idea that she was involved, let alone where she was hiding.

It was time to show this city who really pulled the strings.

Okay, by this point you can probably figure out what was going on, so we can finally get back to me now. I whirred up in my chair and headed for the living room just in time to catch Launchpad as he was turning off the TV.

"Hey, D.W.!" He called cheerfully. "I was just about to hit the hay. We saw the news reports. So, you finally caught Negaduck?"

"Yeah," I replied, "But the police arrived before I could get any info about that Ramrod out of him, so I don't know where it is, or if he told anyone about it...Where's Gos?"

"In bed. She's still pretty steamed that you wouldn't let her come along to help."

"She's just going to have to deal with it," I sighed. "If anything happened to her...She's so stubborn sometimes!"

"You and her both!" He said. "You're two of the stubbornest people I've ever met...And I've met some pretty stubborn people! You two almost tore me apart earlier!"

"I know, I know," I groaned. "Sorry about that, L.P. I think we were both so stressed out by everything that happened...And you got caught in the middle, litterally!"

"You got that right! Well, I'm off to bed. G'night, D.W."

"Hey," I called as he started to head up the stairs. "Um, as much as I hate to admit it, this isn't over yet. I still have to find where Negaduck hid that Ramrod, and the plans for it too. Could you keep an eye on Gos tomorrow, too? Just to make sure she doesn't try and sneak off to 'help,' again."

"She's not gonna like it, y'know."

"Yeah, I know. I don't like it, either...But, she just doesn't seem to understand how dangerous this is, and if anything happened to her..."

"Sure," he replied. "But, just for tomorrow, okay? I think she's starting to feel a little cooped up."

"Cooped up" may have been the understatement of the year. Gosalyn was perched on her bed, bouncing a baseball off the wall. The expression on her face made me cringe. Something told me that I was in for another argument.

"Gos?" I asked.

She glared at me.

"Look, I'm sorry I grounded you, but you really need to learn to listen to me once in a while."

Gos threw me another dirty look and slumped down on her bed so that her back was facing me.

"I know how you feel," I said trying again. "This means a lot to you, and you really want to help, b..."

"...But, this is too dangerous," she finished the sentence before it was out of my mouth. "That's what you were gonna say, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Negaduck's locked up now, so we don't have to worry about him anymore. There's no reason for you to keep me stuck here while you find that Ramrod. I've got at least as much reason to find it as you do."

"I don't want to take chances," I told her. "What if Negaduck had help? Can you at least try to stay away from this?"

She snorted. "That's not gonna work, you know. It's my Grampa's invention, my family, even if I have a new family now. Besides, it's not like any bad guys are going to be after me this time. If they built their own Ramrod, they can build it with their own arming code."

"I _know_ that," I snapped, then remembered that I was trying to make things up with her.

"Gos, I'm not trying to keep you locked up or anything. I'm not trying to keep you from getting involved because I want you to forget about your old family, either. I'm just trying to be a good father, and I know sometimes I make mistakes, but I'm not the only one that makes mistakes. I just don't want to see one of the people I'm closest to get hurt...Or worse!"

I turned for the door before she could come up with a rebuttal.

"Good night, Gosalyn."

Okay, time for another change to a third-person view. In the bad part of town, Clovis made some final adjustments to her new Ramrod. One more twist of a screw, and it was finished. Moving over to the console, she booted up the computer, and then got an unpleasant surprise.

"'Enter arming code?'" She hadn't had a chance to put an arming code on, and there was only one person she knew that could have done this.

"Negaduck...It _figures_." Clovis couldn't think of how he had time to put an arming code on. She'd only bought the computer a few hours ago, and she'd kept an eye on Negaduck for most of the time...Except for when she'd been stealing the diamond for the Ramrod. He couldn't have had more than a few seconds alone with it that one time...

She tapped a few keys on the keyboard, trying to see if she could find out what the code had been changed to.

"He reset it back to default settings, huh? So much for staying out of sight..."

The only time the other Ramrod had been activated, she'd been piloting the airship, and too far away to see what was going on. Clovis sat back for a moment, while she considered her options. There were only two people alive that might know the arming code. The first, of course, was that Darkwing Duck, but Clovis had no wish to tangle with him. Unlike most of the criminals in the city, Clovis had the sense to stay away from anyone who was connected to the authorities, even if the authorities thought he was just some weirdo in a cape.

So, that left the young girl whose grandfather had invented the Ramrod, who had involuntarily sparked Bulba's demise. Clovis had no idea what happened to the girl, but it would be fairly easy to find out by looking up her records at the orphanage...

Now I'm sure you can figure out what's gonna happen. Yeah_, I _wasn't too thrilled about this development, either. But I'm getting ahead of myself again. The next morning, I was in such a rush to try and get the location of the Ramrod out of Negaduck that I hardly said one word to either Launchpad or Gosalyn, instead I took off for the prison as soon as I was up and dressed.

Fortunately, it wasn't all that hard to convince the cops to let me in to see Negaduck. Thanks to his lack of subtlety with the big tank, there had been several news crews out covering the incident, and as a result, I was caught on film stopping Negaduck. I'll have to admit, I looked pretty impressive doing it, too. Especially with the dramatic lighting...I'm getting off topic again, aren't I?

Anyways, it wasn't too long before Negaduck was glaring at me through the bullet-proof glass.

"Well, look who's here," he said sarcastically. "The big-shot hero. Too bad I don't have any big-shot _guns_ to welcome him."

"Yeah, too bad I don't have a gag," I retorted. "I'd love to go through the rest of my life not hearing you ever again, but that's not something I can do right now. Where's the Ramrod? And how many other people know about it?"

"Why should I tell_ you _anything?"

"Because if anyone finds that thing, and figures out how to work it, they'll take over the city. You don't want to lose your position as 'Most wanted criminal' now, do you?"

"Pfft," Negaduck scoffed. "Even if she could get the dumb thing to work, I'd like to see a dope like _you_ take her down."

"Oh-_ho_! So, you _were _working with someone, and someone female to boot. What, is she your girlfriend or something?"

"Nah, she was just using me as cover while making the Ramrod. She was pretty sneaky about it, too, going behind my back and all. It would've almost broken my heart to steal it from her...Assuming I had a heart to break."

"So, are you going to tell me her name?" I asked hopefully.

"Puh-_leese_. How dumb do you think I am?"

"Er, obviously not as dumb as some criminals," I said wincing. So much for that tactic.

"Anything else you can tell me about this mysterious partner of yours?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

I sighed. This was gonna be a long day.

This is where I must move back to a third-person view. This time, focusing on the rest of my small family at home. Gosalyn was irritably pacing around the living room floor, while Launchpad buried himself in the paper's comic section.

"Why do_ I _have to stay home?" Gos griped. "It's not like Negaduck can do anything, he's locked up in prison!"

"Gee, Gos," Launchpad said pulling out of the paper. "I think your Dad just didn't want you to get hurt."

"But, I wouldn't get hurt! I'm more careful than he thinks..."

"Y'know, Gos, I know you're always ready to help D.W., but you seem...I dunno, a bit more into it than usual. I mean, normally, we'd be watching cartoons on a Saturday morning like this, but today you haven't even turned on the T.V."

"Well, it is a personal thing for me, you know. After all, it was my Grampa's last invention..." Gos paused as she sank down on the other end of the couch. "And, ever since he made it, things started going wrong for me. First, I lost my Grampa, then that Taurus Bulba stole it..."

"Well yeah," Launchpad agreed. "But, look on the bright side, Gos. If he hadn't taken it, you wouldn't have met D.W....Or_ me_, for that matter."

"I know," she replied. "But look what happened. I got kidnapped, shot at, almost killed, and then the Ramrod almost killed my Dad...Before he even was my Dad. I have to destroy that Ramrod before it can ruin my life again."

"Um, gee, that's a good point. But, I think you'd better leave it to D.W. this time. He's probably as eager to wrap this up as _you_ are."

"Aw, Dad doesn't care about how I feel. He's just trying to keep me cooped up while _he_ gets to find the Ramrod."

"But Gos, your Dad really does care about your feelings," Launchpad began, but then he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Gosalyn said. It's probably Honker."

She hopped off the couch and darted over to the door to open it up, but was very much surprised to see not our next-door neighbor, but a young woman of the Canardish persuasion.

"Oh!" The woman said. "Gosalyn...My goodness, you've really grown!"

"Who're_ you_?" Gos asked bluntly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Millie...Mildred Maximillian, I used to live next door to your parents when you were little."

"Really? What are you doing here?"

As Gos said that, Launchpad walked over to the door behind her, no doubt curious to see who this woman was.

"I was in town for an old friend's wedding, and I knew the anniversary of your grandfather's death was coming up, so I thought you'd like someone to talk to about the good old days..."

She then noticed Launchpad hovering behind Gos. "And you must be Gosalyn's adopted father. Mr...Mallard, right?""

"Um, I'm not..." Launchpad started to say, but Gos stepped in on his words.

"You knew my parents? _Keen gear_! Do you remember anything about them? What were they like?"

"Oh, I have lots of stories about your parents," the woman told her. "Why, if you want, I can even take you around the old neighborhood. I've been looking up some of my old friends that're still in the area...They would love to see you again."

"Really?"

"Ah...I'm not so sure about this, Gos," Launchpad said, finally getting a word in.

"Don't worry, I'll be okay," Gos told him.

"Yeah, but...We don't know this lady. I think I should come along, just to make sure it's safe."

"Oh, she'll be perfectly all right, Mr. Mallard," the woman said.

"But, I'm not..."

Launchpad was suddenly cut off by Gosalyn pushing him to the side.

"Just a minute, Millie. My 'Dad' and I need to discuss this."

As she pulled Launchpad out of easy hearing range, neither of them noticed a flash of frustration in the alleged "Millie's" eyes, nor did they see her open up her pocketbook and start to pull something out.

"Launchpad, what're you _doing_?" Gosalyn demanded in a harsh whisper.

"What am _I _doing?! What're_ you _doing?! We don't even _know_ this lady, and there's something funny about her..."

"Well of _course _there's something funny about her. For one thing, I'd know her if she was one of my old neighbors. For another thing, I don't think a real neighbor would be trying to get me out of the house, alone! She's definitely up to something...And I think it's got something to do with the Ramrod. That's why I _have_ to go with her! This is my best chance to find it, and I'm not about to let it get past me!"

"But, Gos...D.W. told me to keep you here. Besides, even if you're right and she brings you to that Ramrod, what happens next? I don't think she'll let you get close enough to destroy it, and you'd have another problem...Takin' that machine apart won't be that easy. You'd need someone with some mechanical skills to stop that thing safely, or else you might fry yourself tryin'."

"But, this is _my_ fight," Gos protested, not sounding quite as convinced as she had before.

"Hey, what're friends for?"

Gos turned to him, but as she did something caught her eye. It was the so-called "Miss Maximillian" sneaking up on Launchpad with a weighty section of steel pipe in one hand.

"Lau...Look out!"

But, she was too late. There was a loud "Thud!" and Launchpad suddenly staggered.

"R-ready for takeoff, Mister McDee," he stammered, and fell to the floor.

Gosalyn gasped, and was instantly at his side, to see if he was all right.

"Are you okay? Say something! Please!" She didn't mention his name because she had a funny feeling that that would be a big mistake.

"L-look at all the pretty stars," Launchpad moaned. Gos sighed with relief. He was only knocked out.

"Ooh, you're gonna pay for that!" Gos exclaimed, then suddenly found herself facing the business end of a pistol.

"I guess your father is a bit too protective for his own good," the woman said as she put the steel pipe back into her purse with her free hand and pulled the rubber mask that looked like a fake beak off her face, revealing herself to in fact be Clovis.

"You..." Gosalyn said. "I remember you...!"

"I'm sure you do," Clovis replied. "Now then, Gosalyn, you and I are going to take a ride. Either that..." She swung her gun so that it was aimed at Launchpad. "...Or your father gets it."

Gos paused for an instant. Putting a hand on Launchpad's shoulder, she tried to say something reassuring.

"Don't worry, I'll get her for you!"

Then, she stood up to join Clovis.

Meanwhile, our next-door neighbor, Honker Muddlefoot, headed down the street. As usual, he was buried in a book. How he managed to keep himself on the sidewalk is something I haven't figured out yet. Anyways, as Honker turned down the driveway of his house, he noticed something. Gosalyn was getting into a car he'd never seen before, with a strange woman. Honker didn't know who the woman was, nor why Gosalyn would be leaving with her...Without her father or Launchpad. Honker couldn't see any sign of either of them. He noticed something else. They'd left the door to the Mallards' place wide open, which was very unusual.

The car started up and started pulling out. Honker quickly took a look at its' license plate number, then he decided to go check the Mallards' place, just to make sure everything was all right...

And now that you know what was going on, we can return to the point of view that really matters, namely _mine_! I hadn't been able to get anything else out of Negaduck, beyond the fact that his accomplice was female. Therefore, I was feeling somewhat frustrated as I whirred up in my chair, and into a slightly chaotic situation. Launchpad was staggering around the living room, holding his head. Honker tottered after him with a length of bandages in his hands.

"...Oh, D.W. is gonna_ kill _me!" Launchpad was saying. "This is all_ my _fault...I shoulda kept an eye on that lady...Darnit!"

He sounded furious with himself. Whatever had happened, it must've been pretty bad. His voice had taken on the nasal qualities of a Duckburg accent, something that rarely happened with him. Launchpad's Duckburg accent only ever came out when he was really angry, really scared, or talking to another Duckburgian. Frankly, the Duckburg accent got on my nerves...Maybe because it reminded me too much of that tin can "hero" who was also from Duckburg.

"Launchpad, hold still!" Honker exclaimed, as he was apparently trying to put the bandages on Launchpad's head.

"What is going on?" I asked.

They both turned to look at me. Launchpad flinched, and sank down on the couch.

"T-there was some lady here a few minutes ago. She said she was Gos's old neighbor, but neither of us knew her..."

"Gos?" I asked, as a sneaking suspicion dawned on me. "Where is she?"

"I think that lady took her..."

"_What?! _You...How could you let that happen?"

"I wasn't tryin' to. I mean, I was trying to keep her here, but Gos thought the lady would bring her to that Ramrod, so she wanted to go, then I think that lady hit me with something while we were arguin' about it. The next thing I knew, she was gone...And Gos with her! Darnit, darnit, _darnit!"_

He began thumping his head on the back of the couch, which made it a little difficult for Honker to bandage it.

"L-Launchpad, s-stop! Your head..."

"Don't beat yourself up over this," I told Launchpad, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. "Let _me_ do it for you!"

Fortunately for my thick-headed sidekick, Honker intervened.

"Mister Mallard, wait! We...you...I...Um..."

"Honker, this isn't the time for twenty questions!"

"B-But, I saw them leave...They were too far away for me to do anything, but I got a good look at the license plate on the car they used...You can use it to find where the car went..."

I dropped Launchpad back down to the couch, and smacked my forehead in frustration. "Of course! I can use the license plate to track 'em down! Why didn't _you_ think of that?"

In retrospect, I should count myself lucky that Honker was too polite to answer that.

"Honker, you get that number written down. Launchpad...I don't suppose that kidnapper mentioned any names?"

"She said her name was Millie Maximillian..."

"What kind of name is that?" I asked.

"It could be a fake name," Honker suggested as he pulled a pen out of his pocket.

"Whatever. We don't have time to talk about things like that! I have to find Gosalyn!"

"I'm comin' with you," Launchpad said as he attempted to pull himself off the couch.

"Haven't you done enough damage," I said, sarcastically.

"Well, I was supposed to be watchin' Gos. It's my fault she was kidnapped, so I'm gonna help get her back."

"B-but, you can't," Honker protested. "Y-your head!"

"Aw, don't worry about my head," Launchpad replied. He tried getting off the couch, but the instant he was on his feet, he swayed dangerously, and quickly slumped back on the couch.

"I_ told _you," Honker repeated. "You've got a concussion. You can't go out...You're lucky you're even awake!"

"I'm okay, Honk-man..."

"Famous last words," I sighed. "Look, L.P., I know you really want to help, but even heroes need their rest, especially when they're hurt. Besides, I need someone to stay at home, just in case something happens."

"Y-you got it, D.W.," Launchpad said getting some of his old enthusiasm back.

"Good! Now, I'm going to try and find where that kidnapper took Gosalyn!" I turned and headed for the chairs, hoping against all hope that my daughter would be all right. She had to be!

Meanwhile, Clovis navigated the labyrinthine streets of St Canard. Her furious prisoner was strapped into the front seat beside her.

"You won't get away with this," Gosalyn bluffed. "Darkwing Duck will come looking for me, and..."

Her words died out as Clovis, without looking, pulled her gun out of her jacket and pointed it at her.

"Quiet. You'll attract attention."

That was enough to make Gos quiet for a minute or two, then curiousity won out.

"What d'you want with me, anyways?"

She wasn't really expecting an answer, but this time, Clovis obliged her.

"I need the arming code to the Ramrod. I made the mistake of leaving it where Negaduck could get to it, and he reset the Ramrod to its' default settings. That included the default arming code."

"Oh, well that explains a lot," Gos said, trying not to show any signs of the increasing dread she felt. She didn't know the arming code. The only one she could think of who really knew it was Darkwing Duck, but she'd been too far away to see the code her Dad had used the last time, and afterwards, she hadn't thought she would need the arming code ever again, so she hadn't asked me...I mean, her Dad. (So sue me, I forgot I'm supposed to be doing this scene third-person.)

"I suppose you could say that I'm just doing what your grandfather wanted," Clovis continued. "I sincerely doubt he'd want his greatest invention to be forgotten...And he certainly wouldn't want you to forget about it."

"He wouldn't want anyone to get hurt by any of his inventions, either," Gos retorted.

"Oh, I wouldn't hurt anybody...As long as I get paid enough."

"Why am I not surprised?" Gosalyn muttered softly...And found herself facing the gun again.

"I'd forgotten how spirited you can be...Just remember, you can't stop bullets by being spirited."

Gos gulped awkwardly. All she could do was hope that something happened to get her out of this...Preferably something called Darkwing Duck!

At the same time, I was also hoping for a miracle. I was a bit out of breath from having run all the way from home to the Tower, and then all the way to the computer...And giving serious consideration to installing an escalator or something.

"Okay, let's hope this works..." I said as I entered the license plate number from that car into the database. The wait for something to come up seemed to take fifty times longer than usual, and when something did come up, it took a moment for the name to register.

"Clovis Marshall? Who...?"

And then I remembered where I'd heard the name before. My heart dropped like a ton of bricks, and my eyes nearly popped out from the shock.

"Clovis? That was the lady that worked for...She must've been the one who was building the Ramrod...Oh, _no!"_

I nearly tied my fingers into a knot in my haste to find out where the car was last seen. Finally, I got the information through, and found out that it had been spotted a few minutes ago, pulling into a driveway on Skua Drive.

"Skua Drive? That's in the bad part of town, right? Oh, I'm coming, Gos!"

And now for one last foray into the third-person. Clovis unlocked and opened the door to the penthouse that had, until recently, belonged to Negaduck. She nudged Gosalyn in with a poke of her gun.

"This is your secret hideout?" Gos asked her sarcastically. "I've seen better hideouts in outhouses!"

"I'm planning on upgrading it as soon as I get the Ramrod online," Clovis replied. "Get moving."

Now that Negaduck was gone, Clovis had no reason to hide the Ramrod. It now sat in the middle of the room. All the other stuff in the basement had apparently been shoved to the sides of the room, with the single desk. It had been moved next to the stairs. Gosalyn could see the blueprints for the Ramrod on top of it.

"Well, there it is," Clovis said. "Now, the arming code, if you please."

"Um, well," Gos attempted to think of a good way to say that she didn't know the code. "It's been a while since I've seen this thing, you know, and my memory might be a bit...Um..._Rusty_."

"Really? Well, perhaps this might help clear the rust out of your head," Clovis replied, pulling out her gun.

"Er...D-Did I say _'rusty?' _Um, I think some of it's starting to come back now. Maybe I'll get it back faster if I get a better look at that Ramrod."

Gosalyn very quickly scurried over to the Ramrod's console. There were a lot of colorful buttons, but that didn't help her figure out which ones she was supposed to push. She started hitting a random sequence, mostly to buy herself some time. Nothing happened.

"What's wrong?" Clovis asked, pointedly. "Your memory still _'rusty'?"_

"Aw, come on," Gos said. "Look, I told you, it's been a while since I saw the Ramrod, and the...Um...Pressure isn't helping much. Maybe it was this one?"

She hit a few more buttons with the same result.

"Guess not. Maybe it was this one, instead!" Again, there was a spectacular lack of anything happening.

And now, I can finally finish with all this third-person nonsense, since by that time I'd arrived in the penthouse's lobby. I'd actually made excellent time, considering how much of a head start Clovis had gotten on me. I'd had to...Um...Bypass the speed limit to get there that fast, but it was an emergency...And besides, I don't think any cops noticed me.

Anyways, I entered the penthouse's lobby, and didn't see anything in the first quick glance around. That's when I heard voices coming from the direction of the basement.

"I'm beginning to think you're stalling for time," Clovis was saying.

"Well, of_ course _I'm stalling. What else can I do? I don't know what the code is, all right?!" Gosalyn! She sounded all right, just very nervous. I stealthily headed for the basement.

"That actually might be true," Clovis agreed. "After all, _you_ weren't the one who activated it the last time. Do you have any idea who else might know the code?"

"What? Besides the guy that activated it that other time? No. Why don't you try looking up Darkwing Duck? He knows the code, I don't."

"Hmm...I was trying to avoid Darkwing, but it looks like I have no choice..."

"Great. You leave it to me, I'll get him for yo..."

Gos's voice suddenly stopped with a gasp.

I couldn't take the strain of waiting any longer, and just plain took the last few stairs at a run. Unfortunately, this meant that I was a little off balance, and I kinda tripped and fell down the last step.

"I'm not letting you go yet," Clovis began, but my awkward landing in an undignified sprawl on the floor made her stop. I winced at the pain from my bruised beak and looked up at the now frozen tableau.

Gosalyn was standing about five feet away, by the console of the new Ramrod. Clovis stood just beyond her, with a drawn gun in her hands. I guessed that the gun was what had made Gos gasp like that. Then Clovis moved, faster than I could blink. In an instant, she had Gosalyn in a vice-grip, with the gun pointing at her head.

"Wha...Hey! Let me go!" Gos bellowed.

"Gosalyn!" I cried at the same time.

"Well, look who dropped in," Clovis said calmly. "I was planning on using the girl as bait to lure you here, but I guess you beat me to it."

"Yeah, well I'm here now, aren't I?" I replied. "Let Gosalyn go. If you want the arming code, I'll get it for you."

"Of course, you will. You don't have much of a choice, do you?"

All I could do was glare at her, then head over to the Ramrod's console. I hadn't told Gosalyn that in a roundabout way, she'd known the arming code all along because I'd thought we'd never need it again. I hadn't forgotten the song that contained the code, though. I didn't bother humming it or anything as I pressed the buttons. I didn't want to give Clovis any clues to what the code was. As I finished tapping it in, the Ramrod's engine slowly purred to life.

"Hmm, looks good so far," Clovis remarked. She made her way to the console, rudely pushing me out of the way as she went. I staggered a few feet, but kept my balance this time.

"Now, let Gosalyn go!" I said.

"Calm down. I still have to test it first."

The next thing I knew, I was floating in mid-air. I belatedly realized that I must've stumbled in front of the Ramrod's shooty-thing. Not my best move.

"Well, what d'you know?" Clovis said. "It did work after all. And since I'm a woman of my word..." She let go of Gosalyn, who quickly darted off to the stairs and out of my sight. I sighed with relief. Gos was safe...Even though I was still in trouble, and the city might very well become impossible to live in, and technically speaking, this was my fault, my daughter was safe.

"So now, I guess the question is what do I do with _you_?" Clovis continued, as she left the console and wandered over to look up at me. "I could kill you now, but there's so many others that want a chance to do that...Maybe I could auction off the right to kill you....Then again, that might give you a chance to escape, so that's out. I guess I'll just kill you now and then figure out what to do." She aimed her gun at me.

"_Hey!" _Gosalyn's voice called from behind her. I could just see her out of the corner of my eye, standing by the Ramrod's console, with a large wrench under one arm and what looked like the blueprints to the Ramrod in her hands.

"You think you can mess around with _my_ family and get away with it?!" She continued angrily. Clovis whirled and started to aim her gun at Gos, but I was quicker and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her up with me.

"Well, I've had enough!" Gosalyn yelled as she tore the blueprints up.

"_No_!" Clovis yelled as she struggled through the air. "That's your Grandfather's invention, he wouldn't want you to..."

"Oh, yes he _would!" _Gos retorted, as she pulled the wrench out from under her arm. "My Grampa didn't make these things to hurt people! This dumb thing's caused so much trouble, but this is the end! I'm not gonna let it ruin my life ever again!"

And with that, she climbed on to the Ramrod's control panel, and swung the wrench down on it. Instantly, the Ramrod's beam fizzled out, sending me and Clovis tumbling to the floor. As I pulled myself up, I saw Clovis attempting to aim her gun at Gos again. Quick as thought, I threw myself around her legs, knocking her down. Now that I had the upper hand, I pinned Clovis's arms to her back so she couldn't get away, but then the sound of glass breaking made me look up.

Gosalyn was still taking out all the frustration she'd built up over the past few days on the Ramrod's control panel, smashing every button she could see with the wrench. This, of course, was not good for the Ramrod, especially since it was activated at the time. An alarm started blaring from somewhere inside it, I recognized it as the very same alarm that had gone off right before the last one blew.

"Um, Gosalyn?" I said urgently. "I think you've done enough damage..."

The Ramrod started shaking, as little beams of...Er, I don't even know what to call that stuff. Anti-Gravity beams? Weight decreasers? Whatever. Little beams of anti-gravity started leaking out of its' nozzle. I was suddenly cut off mid-sentence with a yelp as one of the beams nearly hit me. Clovis and I both dodged it in seperate directions. Clovis, of course, took advantage of her freedom and made a break for it. I considered going after her for a moment, then decided that getting Gosalyn out of there was more important.

"_Gos!" _I called. "Get out of there! I think it's gonna blow!"

"Huh?" She asked, looking up from her furious frenzy.

That's when it happened. There was a big electric-sounding _"FZAP"_ from right under where she was standing, and the next thing I knew my daughter was falling off the console.

"Gosalyn!" I cried. She hit the floor, and to my horror just lay there, not moving. I took a breath and ran through the rain of anti-gravity beams to get to her. Once I was there, I turned her over, hoping with all my might that she would be _all right_...

"_Gosalyn! Gos! _Oh my gosh...Please be okay..."

I'm not much of a doctor, but I could see she was breathing. She was alive!

"Oh, Gos...Hold on, sweetie. It's gonna be all right..." I looked up at the malfunctioning machine above us. If this was anything like before, then we didn't have much time. Picking Gos up, I sprinted for the stairs, and the lobby. As I ran, I hoped we'd make it out before the Ramrod blew.

I reached the entrance to the penthouse, and had to stop to catch my breath. Well, you try running with a kid in your arms, and see how long _you_ last! Anyways, I realized that at this rate, we wouldn't make it out of the blast radius in time...Unless...

I could see a water pipe on the roof of the building across the street. Thinking quickly, I pulled out my gas gun. Thankfully, it had the grappling hook on it, or else we'd have been up a creek! I aimed at the pipe and fired. The grappling hook caught around the pipe, and I pressed the button to reel us to safety. I did it just in time, too. While we were still in the air, the Ramrod exploded, causing the building behind us to collapse. Well, we may have been out of range of the blast, but we were still caught in the sudden rush of displaced air (There's probably a better word for it, but I can't think of what it is.) Anyways, it threw me off balance enough that my carefully planned swing became a frantic scramble through the air. I suddenly saw the building I'd grapple-hooked rushing at us...Or was it the other way around? I realized that at this rate, Gosalyn would take the worst of our precipitous "landing." I gritted my teeth and managed to swing around at the last second to pretty much go "_splat_" into the wall of the building.

"_Ow_," I said as I slid down the face of the building. It took me a moment or two to recover, then I looked down at Gosalyn.

She was still unconscious. I just hoped that she wasn't badly injured...I mean, I'd taken far worse than just that one jolt and bounced right back, but then again, I was a crime fighter. I was supposed to be tough. Gos was just a kid...Just my daughter...

"Gosalyn," I said, gently shaking her and trying not to show how freaked I was. "Wake up, honey. It's all over..."

And to my ever-lasting relief, she stirred and sat up.

"_Oww..._And I used to buy tickets for rides like that..."

"_Gosalyn!" _I whooped, and almost knocked the breath out of her with a big hug.

"_Oof..._Hi, Dad," she said.

Then I realized she might still be hurt and just as quickly let her go.

"A-Are you okay?" I asked. "No broken bones, or ruffled feathers, or hangnails or..."

"'_Course_ I'm okay. Will you stop overreacting?! I've taken worse shocks from the rug in my room!"

"Could've fooled me," I grumbled.

"What happened? Did I get the Ramrod?"

"I'd say you did," I glanced at the smoking remains of the building we'd just vacated. "Couldn't you just hit the 'off' button?! I'll admit that narrow escape was pretty dramatic, but that was a bit too close for my comfort!"

"Well, I didn't think of looking for the 'off' button," she retorted. "I was too busy trying to stop that machine before it could do any more damage to figure out which button was which. Besides, I haven't waited this long for a new family just to lose you to some dumb machine!"

"_Ha!" _I scoffed. "It'll take more than just a dumb machine to stop Darkwing Duck! Now, let's get you to a doctor. I just want to make sure you're really all right." I got to my feet and picked her up.

"Aw, I'm not a baby," Gosalyn protested. "I can walk. Put me _down_!"

"I know you're not a baby," I replied as I put her back on the ground. That's when I noticed that she was shivering a little. Come to think of it, it was starting to get cold out. Winter was just around the corner, and I doubted that Clovis had given Gos time to get a jacket...

I pulled my cape off and threw it around her shoulders. She looked up, startled.

"It's getting cold out," I said. "I don't have a spare jacket on me, so that'll have to do."

Gos smiled faintly.

"Thanks, Dad," she said softly.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "L-Let's get out of here. I don't know about you, but I've had enough of the Ramrod to last for...I'd say an eternity or so. We have to go find you a doctor, too."

"I told you, I'm okay..."

"Yeah," I said, turning to her. "But you gave me a real scare back there..."

I was suddenly cut off by something poking at my back.

"Now what?" I asked. Gos's eyes went wide, and I had a feeling that that wasn't the fire escape poking me...

"I seem to be having a lot of trouble with you caped kooks lately," Clovis remarked. "First Negaduck, now you...Oh, don't worry, I'm not out for revenge, I'm not like Taurus Bulba...But, think of all the street cred I'd get if I killed Darkwing Duck..."

There was no way that Clovis could miss me from point-blank range like that. I realized that Gosalyn was standing close enough to me that she might be hit, too, so I did the only thing I could think of. I pushed her out of the way.

And then Clovis pulled the trigger...

Now obviously, I lived. How else would I be here and writing this story? I'm the hero here, and the hero never dies...Well, hardly ever anyways. I'll have to admit, for a few seconds there, I really thought I'd bought the farm. So did Gosalyn. I could hear her yelling at the top of her lungs.

"_No! Darkwing_!"

I couldn't feel anything, but the loud gunshot from right behind me startled me enough that I staggered forward a step or two, tripped, and fell on my face. I lay on the ground for a moment before realizing something rather important. I was alive. In fact, I was completely intact.

I looked up to see Gosalyn staring down at me. Judging by the expression on her face, and the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks, I guessed that she'd gotten as big a scare as I had a few minutes ago.

"Wait a minute..._I'm alive?! _I'm all right!" I gasped.

_"Darkwing!" _Gos cried at the same time, wrapping her arms around me.

"What the...What happened?" I spluttered. That's when I looked over at Clovis. She was staring in shock down at her gun, which was now sprouting a flag out of it's nozzle. The flag had a picture of Negaduck making a face on it.

"Negaduck..." Clovis said with a certain amount of exasperation. "He must've switched the bullets on me...It _figures_."

One hour later, the case was officially wrapped up. By that point, Launchpad had recovered from that bump on his head to join us, although he said that he was still a little woozy...Not that I saw much difference, personally. Either way, the doctors said that both he and Gosalyn were just fine. Anyways, the three of us watched as Clovis was led to the nearest police car. Of course, Gosalyn couldn't help getting the last word in.

"That's what you get for messing with my family," she yelled at Clovis' retreating back. "You're just lucky we went easy on you!"

Her words made me realize something. Clovis could, and probably would knowing my luck, make our lives very miserable if she got out of prison. Especially Gos. I reluctantly left her with Launchpad and jogged over to the nearest police officer.

"Excuse me," I said. "Would it be possible to put Miss Marshall in prison somewhere very far away from here? I mean, not that I have any connection to that girl she kidnapped or anything, but Clovis did kidnap her from her own home once, and I'm a bit worried that she might try it again if she gets out."

"You don't have to worry about that," the policeman told me. "There's an outstanding warrant for her up in Duckburg. We're moving her there to face charges for forgery."

"Duckburg?" I repeated. That was where the that helmet-head Gizmoduck hung out. He could certainly take care of Clovis if she broke out...Assuming he could stop making those stupid speeches long enough to notice _anything_. Then again, maybe I was just being paranoid. After all, how easy could it be to break out of prison? I made a mental note to ask Launchpad if he knew what the breakout rate was up there.

That would have to wait until we got home, though. Speaking of which, I couldn't get Gosalyn home as Darkwing without attracting a lot of attention.

"Well," I announced. "Since this case is most definitely wrapped up, it's time for _this_ crime fighter to exit, stage right."

And I quickly slipped off for the nearest set of bushes to switch identities.

"Gosalyn!" I cried ten minutes later, rushing over to where my daughter was. "Are you okay? I was so worried about you...She didn't do anything to you, did she?"

"I'm okay, Dad," she said. "Darkwing Duck showed up and saved me."

"He did?" I asked, putting an arm around her shoulders. "You must be really lucky that he was there."

"I know I am," she replied. "I guess he's a lucky charm for me...After all, I found _you_, didn't I?"

In retrospect, I'm glad that the second Ramrod was destroyed when it was, because just over a week later came the anniversary of the death of Gosalyn's Grandfather. She actually handled it very well, considering, she didn't break down until the memorial service. I did what I could, giving her a shoulder to cry on and all that mushy stuff, but that was about all I could do...At least until the service was over.

"Gos?" I asked that night, poking my head into her room. She was curled up on her bed with that old picture of her and her Grandfather in her hands. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"Are you okay? Um, I made you something to eat...Grilled cheese, your favorite."

"Huh? Oh...Thanks, Dad." she said. I took the oppritunity to enter her room.

"Here y'go," I put the grilled cheese down on her night stand, but paused a bit before I left.

"G-Gosalyn," I began, "There was something I've been meaning to give you, I found it at your old lab..." I held up that old photo album. "I was gonna give it to you earlier, but I wasn't sure how you'd react to it, especially with everything that happened with that Ramrod, and all..."

"Hey, I remember this!" Gos exclaimed as she took the album. "I haven't seen it in years...Wow, I used to be so little..."

"Yeah, you've sure grown up," I said a bit hoarsely. "If you need anything else, I'll be downstairs." And I turned to leave.

"Dad?" Gosalyn asked from behind me. "D'you want to stay and look at the pictures with me? Grampa used to say, 'Memories are best when shared.'"

I smiled slightly. "Your Grandfather sure sounds like he was a smart guy, " I remarked as I turned back and sat down to join her.

.


	5. Chapter 5

_The publishing company's cafeteria was fairly crowded. Dozens of employees shuffled through the line to get their food, then found tables to eat their food before they had to get back to work. The cafeteria worker was so used to her job of cashing out customers that she didn't notice that the "Customer" was in fact a cartoon character until she realized that his tray held a lot more food than the average human could eat. That was when she did a double take and realized that the "Customer" was a fairly tall talking duck...Or was he a pelican? She really didn't know._

_The cartoon duck took his tray to the far corner of the cafeteria where another cartoon duck was already eating from his less laden tray._

_"Okay, D.W., I'm back," the first duck announced. His shorter companion took one look at all the food on the tray and flinched._

_"Did you have to get that much?" He said in an exasperated tone of voice. "We're not stocking up for a SHUSH mission or anything, we're just getting lunch!"_

_"Aw, but I was hungry!" The bigger duck replied. He then took a submarine sandwich and quickly crammed it into his mouth._

_"I know, but the publishing company's paying for our lunch, and I have a feeling that if it keeps up like this, it's gonna come out of my paycheck."_

_The bigger duck finished his sub in one swallow, then reached for another one._

_"Y'know," he said around a beakful of sub. "For weird, beakless mutants, they make some swell food. Y'should have told me about this place earlier, D.W."_

_"Well, it's not like I was holding it back from you," his companion told him. "These guys hardly ever brought me here...And they say this is the first time I've been here in years. You wouldn't believe all the changes they've made. Especially what's on T.V. these days...Yeesh, the last time I saw this many commercials was when the Liquidator got ahold of Megavolt's thigummy...What did he call it again?"_

_The bigger duck polished off his third sub. "I dunno."_

_"Electro...Electro-something. Whatever. If my show was still on the air, we wouldn't have to worry about the quality of the stuff on T.V. My show's just what this battered, politically-correct world needs..."_

_He noticed several of the publishing company's female workers edging their way towards them. _

_"Look at this!" He told the taller duck in a whisper. "It seems I've attracted some fans! This could take a while."_

_By this point, the ladies had gotten within speaking distance._

_"H-hi," one of them said shyly. "I used to watch your show when I was a kid, and I was wondering if I could have your autograph."_

_"Well, of course you can!" The shorter Duck said cheerfully. He whipped a pen out of his cape. "What was your name again?"_

_"Um, I didn't mean you," the girl told him. "I meant Launchpad..."_

_"What?" The shorter duck whined._

_"You were my favorite character on 'Ducktales,'" the girl said turning to the bigger duck. "I never understood why you left."_

_"Huh? You want my autograph?" The bigger duck said, surprised. "I don't have a pen on me...D.W., can I borrow yours?"_

_"Wait, wait a minute," the shorter duck spluttered. "You're trying to tell me that..That...He had his own T.V. show?!"_

_"Well, yeah...You've never heard of 'Ducktales' before? Your show was a spinoff of it, you know."_

_The shorter duck's jaw hit the floor. Literally. He fumed unintelligibly for a few seconds before storming out of the cafeteria in a huff. Two minutes later, the editor who was working with the ducks headed into the cafeteria. He noticed the taller duck talking to the girls and made a beeline for them._

_"...And I really think you could do better back in Duckburg," one of the girls was saying to him._

_"Sorry, Miss," the duck responded. "Things were gettin' too settled there, and besides, I like it over in St. Canard."_

_"Um, excuse me," the editor interrupted politely. "Where'd Darkwing go?"_

_"D.W.? He headed that way," the duck pointed to the other entrance. "I don't think he was too happy, though. Probably because I bought all that food...That reminds me, I haven't finished my lunch yet."_

_"Thanks," the editor told him._

_The shorter duck was in the corridor outside the cafeteria, pacing around as he ranted and raved._

_"That thick-headed, blundering, aviator had his own show all along...And he gets all the fangirls, too! Of all the lousy...Grr!"_

_The editor wondered if other editors had this problem. Probably not, how many other editors worked with cartoon characters? Especially egomaniacal cartoon characters?_

_"Mister duck?" He began tentatively. The duck threw a killing glare at him._

_"Oh, look who's here," he said sarcastically. "You could've told me that Launchpad was on another show, or that my show was a spinoff of said show...How could you make my show into a spinoff?! I deserve my own spotlight, a whole show to myself! Instead, I get lumped in with a different show..."_

_"Yes, I know," the editor said, trying to cut off the duck's ranting before he could get any further. "We didn't tell you about it, because we thought you already knew. We were wrong."_

_"I'll say you were. Why couldn't you have made my show first?!"_

_"Because..." The editor thought fast. "Er, because we weren't sure if the world was ready for you. Y-Your world was so big that we had to split it up into two parts to prepare the audience for you, so that's why we made 'Ducktales.'"_

_"Really?" The duck asked, then coughed awkwardly. "Of course you did. My world's a vastly different place from yours, so I shouldn't blame you guys for introducing the audience to it with that other show. So, what did you want, anyways?"_

_The editor tried his best not to roll his eyes at the duck's ego in action._

_"Well, I asked you to bring Launchpad this time because I wanted you to do a story about him. He's the only one of the 'big trio' you haven't done."_

_"Launchpad? Aw, but I wanted to do 'The triumphant triumph of Darkwing Duck' this time..."_

_"Yeah I know, but there'll be plenty of time for that one later. Right now we want to get all the major characters out of the way."_

_"Okay okay, I'll do that story for you," the duck grumbled grudgingly. That was when his bigger companion poked his head into the corridor._

_"Hey D.W.," he said. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra pen on you? That other one you gave me ran out...There's a lot of people that want my autograph for some weird reason."_

* * *

Part 5: Out of Flight

I'd_ like _to tell you that this day has been one of the best in my life...But, it's not. First, I find out that my sidekick had a show before I did, then I discover that_ my _show is considered a spinoff of said show. What's next, T. showing Saturday morning cartoons?!

Anyways, I've been told that Launchpad's actually a bit of a minor character on that other show, which makes me feel slightly better at least. He's definitely got a bigger role on my show. Without him, my job would be a lot harder...I mean, not that it's _easy_ or anything.

So, you want a story about my sidekick? Well, this one begins at home. I had just gotten up promptly at the crack of Noon, and was in the process of waking up with a cup of coffee.

"Morning, D.W." Launchpad called cheerfully as he entered the kitchen.

"Morning," I replied, taking another swig of coffee. What should I do today, I wondered. Maybe find a few gangs to lock up, or maybe stock up on my neverending supply of 8x10 glossies? Or even better, I realized. That new horror flick was opening tonight. Maybe Morgana'd want to go see it with me?

I spotted the newspaper across the table from me. If I wanted to go on a nice date, it would help if I knew when the movie started. I started to reach for the newspaper, only to find Launchpad grabbing it first.

"Hey, can I have the movie section?" I asked, as he began flipping through the paper.

"Huh? What for?"

"Well, I was thinking of asking Morgana if she wanted to go see_ 'It came from the Birdhouse' _tonight, and..."

"Tonight?! You can't do that," he exclaimed.

"Why not?" I whined irritably. "It's not like Morgana's afraid of some horror flick, and I deserve a break from getting dangerous for one night."

"But, tonight's the night my family's supposed to get here, remember? They're gonna fly in that big air show at Westunder."

Now that he'd mentioned it, I did remember him saying something about his family coming. That had been about two minutes before we'd gotten into a big car chase with some dastardly delinquents, so I hadn't exactly been listening when he'd told me.

"Oh yeah," I said, attempting to think of a way out of this. The last thing I needed right now was a family reunion...Which wasn't even _my_ family! Especially if the rest of the family in question was anything like Launchpad!

"Look, Launchpad," I told him, trying to talk him out of including me in his plans. "I'd really like to come with you and meet your family and all, but..." I thought of an excuse to use. "But, I'm feeling a little under the weather tonight. Maybe another time?"

"Aw, but I told 'em you were comin'," he protested. "Hey wait a minute, how come you're healthy enough to go out with Morgana, but not to meet my family?!"

"Um, because she likes her guys pale?" It was pathetic, I know, but it was all I could think of off the top of my head. Besides, for all I know, she really did like her guys pale.

"Now, D.W., I might be a little thick-headed, but I know where my marbles are," Launchpad said. "You aren't really sick, are you? 'Cause they've really been lookin' forward to this..."

I sighed and reached for the paper again. Anything to avoid listening to him go on about his family...

"...An' they're really big fans..." It was the word "Fans" that caught my ear. I pulled my beak out of the paper.

"What?"

"I said, they're really big fans of yours. I guess it was all the letters to home about the big adventures you have. They must've liked what they heard, because they're almost bigger fans than me!"

Now that of course changed everything. I always appreciated adoring fans, and my autographing hand hadn't been getting much exercise lately...Besides the occasional warm up to keep in shape.

"Er...Now that I think about it, I don't feel that bad after all," I told him. Bring on those McQuacks, I thought. After all, how bad could a bunch of well-deserved fans be?

In the end, however, I ended up going to meet the "Flying McQuacks" not as my dashing crime-fighter alter ego, but as my secret identity...Mostly because I stood out a little too much in a mask and cape at an airfield. Speaking of which, Westunder Airfield was kinda boring, if you ask me. There wasn't anything to do but watch planes go up, planes go down, and to persuade Gosalyn that this wasn't some kind of big soccer field.

"I don't care how big it is," I told my daughter firmly. "You are_ not _playing soccer here!"

"Well, it's not like there's anything else to do," Gos protested, bouncing a soccer ball from one foot to the other. Naturally, she had just come from soccer practice, and going by how hyperactive she was, she'd eaten something with a lot of sugar in it there.

"There's too many planes around, and it's too dangerous," I repeated...For the fiftieth time. "_No soccer_."

"Aw, this is no fun. I can't play, I can't even check out those cool planes..."

"Don't worry, Gos," Launchpad said. "When my folks get here, you'll see plenty of planes up close...Hey, I think I see 'em, now!"

He pointed to a bunch of what looked like miniscule specks off in the distance.

"About time," Gos mottered under her breath.

"Gosalyn!" I snapped at her in an undertone. "That's very rude, young lady! You need to show some respect for other peoples' families."

Although I hate to admit it, but I kinda agreed with her. There really wasn't much to do there. Fortunately, I don't think Launchpad heard either of us. He was gazing off into the distance, shading his eyes against the setting sun with one hand as he strained to get a better look at the distant planes.

"Hold on a minute," he exclaimed. "There's _four _planes..? Nah, those are my folks' planes, all right. I wonder who that fourth plane belongs to?"

The aforementioned four planes turned in unison, heading for a nearby runway. As they skimmed in for a landing, they all suddenly went into a loop-the-loop before pulling onto the runway. Launchpad whooped enthusiastically, and jogged over to meet the disembarking pilots. Gos and I followed, at a slower pace.

As we approached, I could see Launchpad chattering happily with three of the pilots, who were undoubtedly his parents and sister. The fourth pilot was hanging back by the planes. I couldn't help noticing that he didn't look like any of the McQuacks.

"Hey, Loopy, you still dyin' your hair? Ya look great. Aw, it's so good to see y'guys," Launchpad told his family cheerfully. "It's been, what, three years now? Wow...Oh, I almost forgot!" He gestured towards me and Gos. "These're the folks I've been livin' with. That's Drake Mallard, an' his daughter Gosalyn. This is my Dad, Ripcord, my Mom, Birdy, an' my sister, Loopy."

Ripcord McQuack looked a lot like his son. He certainly had the same build, as well as the same easygoing thickhead expression. As I stepped forward to shake hands, Ripcord gave me an enthusiastic pat on the back, which had the effect of almost knocking me off my feet.

"Darn pleased to meet ya," he said in a deep voice gone slightly nasal from the Duckburg accent.

"L-Likewise," I croaked, struggling to get my breath back. I then found myself face to face with Mrs. Mcquack. Birdy didn't look too much like her son. She was very short. although her handshake certainly showed an underlying strength...Which wouldn't be so bad except it was kinda my hand.

"Oh, Launchpad has told us so much about you two," she exclaimed. "Did he ever tell you about that time he won the soapbox derby? Why, he _really_ made that thing fly!"

"Aw, Mom, that was fifteen years ago," Launchpad protested. "Besides, I kinda uh...Botched up the landin'."

"Like, you sure did, big bro'." His sister, Loopy, put in. "It _totally_ went right into that tree." Unlike the rest of her family, I noticed, she had one of those "valley girl" accents. She had removed her flight cap to reveal blond hair, which at first surprised me, since the rest of her family seemed to have red hair of one shade or another, but then I remembered Launchpad's earlier comment about her dying her hair.

"I know," Launchpad groaned. "Did they ever get that old soapbox outta there?"

"Nope," his father replied. "It's still there."

"Yeah, well...I've been workin' on my crashin' these days," Launchpad said. "Why, I haven't crashed a plane in over two weeks!"

I rolled my eyes at that particular statement. _Plane_? No. _Ratcatcher, _yes. Right into a manhole. We were just lucky that we'd both gotten out of the way in time, and that Launchpad had been able to fix the stupid thing.

"But, we can't stand here jabberin' all day," Launchpad continued. "You guys are stayin' at the hotel down the street, right? I'll help you stow the planes an' get your stuff to the hotel, then we can go have dinner. My treat."

He made his way to the pile of assorted bags that the fourth newcomer was unloading and picked up the nearest suitcase. That's when he apparently realized that the new guy was there.

"Say, I don't think I know you. Er, are you one of the cousins, by any chance?"

"Like, of course not," Loopy said as she walked up to put her arm around the guy. "He's, like, my fiancee, silly."

"Oh, I see, he's your business partner, right? The one that handles the money?"

"No, that's _finances_," I muttered under my breath.

"Actually, it means we're getting married," the new guy replied.

Well, Launchpad being himself, it took a few moments for the full import of those words to register.

"That's nice," he said as he ducked under the wing of the nearest airplane. "So, how do you guys feel about Ham..."

And then, it obviously hit him.

"Ha...Ma...M-m-m-_Married_?!" He sputtered, smacking his head on the underside of the wing.

"Duh," Loopy snorted. "This is Dylan DiBronski. Dyl, this is, like, the big brother I told you about."

"It's nice to finally meet you," Dylan said. He was a skinny canid-like fellow whose demeanor suggested car salesman, rather than pilot. I think Launchpad was a little too shell-shocked by the news to really pay much attention.

"Hold on a sec, _you're_ marryin' my sister?!" He yelped.

"Like, who did you think he's marrying, Mom?" Loopy retorted somewhat sarcastically.

"But...But...But, you're too young! Wouldn't it be better if you waited a few years? You're only twenty-one!"

"For your information, I just turned twenty-_two_, mister..."

"Hey, cool down, kids," their father Ripcord intervened. "I didn't fly five hundred miles just to hear you two arguin'. Now, let's get out stuff to the hotel, an' then we can have that dinner you were talkin' about."

Fortunately, both the hotel and a Hamburger Hippo were with walking distance of the airfield. It would've been a bit crowded driving in the car. Once we were at the restaurant, Launchpad began regaling the others with a retelling of one of my adventures.

"An' then, D.W. used the oil t'make that boat so slippery, that Steelbeak couldn't hold on," he said in between large mouthfuls of hamburger. "He dropped that weather gadget, an' the lightnin' from that storm blew that boat t'_pieces_! An' y'wouldn't believe what happened next, D.W. said I was a_ hero! _ Who'd have thunk!'

"Oh my, that Darkwing sounds like a _real _hero," Birdy chirped from where she was sitting next to me. "I hope we'll have a chance to see him while we're here."

"Don't worry, Mom," Launchpad said. "You'll probably get a chance. I've already told D.W. what big fans y'are. So, what're you doin' in the air show this time? The old Flippity Flop? The Screamin' Scooter?"

"All that and more," Birdy told him. "Your sister and Dylan are going to do something extra special this year."

"Oh, what's that?" Launchpad asked, as he swigged down some Cuckoo Cola.

"Only the Flight of Fancy," Dylan said. I had no idea what he meant, but I think Launchpad did. He suddenly choked on his drink, spraying soda everywhere.

"The Flight of_ Fancy_?!"

"Like, totally," Loopy confirmed.

"What's the Flight of Fancy?" I asked, now wondering if I really wanted to know.

"It's a two-person stunt," Ripcord told me. "One person jumps off the plane, an' the other one does a quadruple shake-an'-bake before swooping in t'catch her at the last moment."

"Don't worry, there's a net at the bottom just in case something goes wrong," Birdy added.

"I don't know about this..." Launchpad said. "Isn't the quadruple Shake-and-bake a little bit out of your range? Y'wouldn't be able t'catch the guy in time..."

"Like, of course not, big bro'. Dylan's totally gonna do the Shake-and-bake."

"But, that means you'll be jumpin' out of a plane two hundred feet in th' air...An' I don't know this Dylan guy. I don't think it's a good idea for you to go jumpin' from a plane with a guy I don't know catchin' you."

"Oh, relax, Launchpad," Loopy said reassuringly. "We've practiced this like a hundred times, and Dylan's caught me every time."

"I'm sure he's practiced it with you, but the real thing's a lot different. I think you should do it with someone with more experience, like Mom or Dad...Or even _me!"_

"Oh, are you saying I can't do this with my fiancee?" Loopy demanded. I noticed that her normal "Valley Girl" accent had faded out a little.

"Well, I..."

"Dylan's more than good enough at flying to pull it off. Besides, it'll be totally romantic to the _max! _What could be sweeter than two lovebirds who trust each other enough to do a stunt like that?"

"Yeah, the crowd'll love it," Dylan agreed. "I can't think of anything that'll top it. So, are you doing anything in the air show? Whatever it is, I don't think it'll even come close to our Flight of Fancy."

"Oh, _I_ know something that can beat your little Flight of fancy," Launchpad retorted as he jumped to his feet. "How about a Flingin' Spring?"

All four of the other pilots stared at him in shock.

"Like, wait a second, Bro'," Loopy said. "Nobody's ever done that before!"

"That's what they said about the Treetop Bebop," he replied. "I did that one...An' I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Well, why not?" Ripcord asked. "He's a McQuack, isn't he? If anyone can pull off a Flingin' Spring, it's one of _us_. So, who wants dessert?"

I felt a certain amount of relief later that night, after we escorted the McQuacks back to their hotel room. While they weren't nearly as bad as our pesky neighbors, the Muddlefoots, they were still a little too in my face for my taste.

"And, with the carefree pursuits of the day done," I monologued as Launchpad and I set out in the Ratcatcher. "Darkwing Duck finds himself fast on the trail of a gang of thick..."

"I still can't believe that Loopy's gettin' married," Launchpad rudely interrupted my monologue from the Ratcatcher's sidecar.

"On the trail of a gang of thickwitted theives, creeping ever closer and closer to the..." I tried to continue my monologue, but he didn't take the hint.

"I hardly even _know _the guy! I dunno...It just feels like she's growing up too fast."

"Oh, for..._Will you stop interrupting?!" _I snapped.

"Huh? Oh, sorry D.W. I didn't notice you were talkin' out loud to yourself again."

"Yeah? Well, try not to let it happen again, okay?"

"There's just something about that guy Dylan that makes me want to say_ 'Get away from my sister, ya punk.' _I just want to beat him at his own game..."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Call me insensitive, but at that point, I had other things on my mind.

"That's why I told 'em I was gonna do the Flingin' Spring. I wasn't gonna fly in the air show, but that guy...Ah, what am I sayin'? I know I've been wrong before, look at Morgana. Besides, Loopy likes the guy...An' Mom an' Dad are happy that he can fly a plane, but I just can't shake the feelin' that that Dylan guy's bad news!"

"Launchpad, I know you're concerned for your family and all, but I think we have more pressing matters to take care of, like foiling fiendish plots, and putting scuzzy sinister scoffers of the law out of business." And of course, finishing my monologues.

"Oh yeah. So, what're we doin' tonight?" He asked.

"Lessons on how to act like a real crime-fighter, my enthusiastic acomplice."

"Aw, does this mean I have to wear that costume again? It works for _you_, but I don't think it looks good on me."

"Well, what do you want, your own show?" I snapped irritably. "Besides, the Darkwing costume will give you the psychological advantage of looking like me."

"Uh, how is that an advantage?"

"Do I have to explain everything to you?! Wearing the outfit of a well-known and extremely capable crime-fighter like me will make you feel like me. I'm the city's best defense against any kind of crime And what's more, criminals fear me. The knowlege that Darkwing Duck is out there, ready to pounce on any who mess around with my city's laws will make any would-be perpetrators have second thoughts. Besides, it'll make a good distraction. Think of yourself as being the one and only Darkwing decoy."

"Really? A decoy? I guess I can do that...But, won't that mean they'll be shootin' at me?"

"Well, um..." I struggled for a good answer. "They won't be able to shoot at you, because I'll be lurking in the shadows, and take them by surprise before they have a chance."

"Really? That sounds like a smart plan, D.W...But, I still think I look pretty dumb in your costume."

He was right about that, at least. I definitely looked better in my costume than _he_ did. That was partly because my costume_ fit _me. While I'd taken the time to let out the seams on "his" costume after the last time we'd tried

this, it was pretty clear that I hadn't let them out enough. The costume looked like it was tight as a rubber band on him, but at least it didn't look like the costume was about to fall apart this time.

"I dunno about this, D.W.," Launchpad said as he stepped out from the bushes where he'd been changing and pulled the mask on. "Purple really isn't my color, an' I look ridiculous. Can't I just wear my goggles down, or somethin'?"

"And ruin a perfectly good dramatic image?" I retorted. "C'mon, we don't have all night for this."

I had already found a good place to test out my new decoy. There was an up-and-coming gang called the Goofers who, I'd discovered, were holed up in a warehouse on Ptera Street. I positioned Launchpad outside the warehouse's door as I gave him some last-minute instructions.

"Now remember Launchpad, all you have to do is draw the Goofers out of hiding by making one of my trademark dramatic entrances, and I'll take care of the rest. That's so easy, a child could do it. You can do that, right?"

"Sure thing, D.W., but I still..."

"Good. Now get going," I told him, and swished off in search of a good place to hide.

I reached my hiding place behind a trashcan just as the show started. Launchpad pulled out a smoke bomb and set it off, that part of the plan went smoothly. What went wrong was that he was _supposed_ to throw it to the ground. Instead, he kept holding it. As a result, the smoke got in his face, making him cough. I flinched in frustration. That was going to be next week's lesson!

That was when the warehouse door opened, and around a dozen or so Goofers spilled out into the street. _"Goofers?" _Maybe "_Goo-rillas_" would've been better, or maybe just that old standard, "_Goons_." They were big hulking guys, all of whom looked about as intelligent as a rock. Anyways, Launchpad finally realized that the smoke bomb that he was still holding was the source of the smoke which was making him cough, and dropped it. One of the Goofers kicked the still-smoking smoke bomb away, causing the air to clear up a little.

"Whew! Thanks, guys," Launchpad said. "You're a lifesaver. I don't know _why_ he..." He suddenly realized who he was talking to. "Hey wait, you're those Gopher guys, aren't you? Now, what was I supposed to say? I am the tarot that flips in the night..."

I smacked my face in exasperation. Not only had he botched up an intro he'd seen me do a hundred times, he hadn't even pronounced _"Tarot" _right.

"Uh, I am...Uh...The fly on your windshield," Launchpad continued. "Er...Hey, D.W., isn't this the 'rest of it' you're supposed to take care of?"

I sighed and jumped out of hiding, landing on a Goofer in the process.

"For your information, it's pronounced_ tah-roh_," I growled irritably. "What's the matter with you?! Can't you remember how to say _'I am the terror that flaps in the night?'"_

"Well, I _tried_ at least. It's kinda hard to remember all those lines with that smoke in my face. D'you have to use it all the time?"

"Well of _course_," I shot back. "The smoke is one of my signature items. How would you feel if you had to go through life without that flight cap? You just wouldn't be _you_! It's the same with me and the smoke..."

I would've gone on, but then I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"'Ey, shorty, wot're you doin' landin' on poor Bugeyes there?" The Goofer behind me asked.

"Aside from discussing trademarks with my sidekick, I'm just taking out the trash," I told him, then I quickly grabbed the startled Goofer's arm and threw him into the pile of trashcans I'd been hiding behind. I then came up in a karate stance.

"Okay, any of you Goofers ready to tangle with the Masked Mallard? To be humiliatingly humbled by the likes of a real hero? To..."

"You tell 'em, D.W.," Launchpad called from behind the line of thugs.

"What_ is _it with you and interrupting me tonight?!" I demanded.

"Sorry, D.W."

"Why don't you put a lid on it?" One of the Goofers asked from right behind Launchpad, as he shoved a bucket over Launchpad's head. He tried to pull it off, but I suspect it was stuck.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" Launchpad's voice was muffled from the bucket on his head. "D.W., can you give me a hand?"

"You'll have to wait a minute," I called back, as I nimbly dodged the Goofers'attempts to squash me flat. "I'm a little _busy_ here..."

Another Goofer tried to sneak up behind me, but I saw him coming and deftly tripped him.

_"Ha!" _I exclaimed. "You may have bested my sidekick, but it'll take more than a gang of Goofers to beat _me!"_

All of a sudden, someone behind me shoved me down. Looking up, I could see Launchpad staggering around where I had just been standing, still trying to pull the bucket off his head. Then I was roughly pulled up into the air by the scruff of my neck.

"Well looky here," the Goofer who was holding me said. "We gots us a hero. Too bad he's about to become one with my _fist!"_

The remaining Goofers all laughed at his comment. I struggled to get free, but the Goofer's grip was too strong. I couldn't see Launchpad, but I could still hear him trying to get the bucket off. So much for getting help...

"Any last words?" The Goofer demanded. I cringed as I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Um, are any of you guys looking for a job as a sidekick, perhaps?"

There was a startled yelp from the line of Goofers. Turning my head a little,I could see one of the Goofers hopping up and down holding his foot. Next to him, I could see Launchpad stumbling around. I guessed that Launchpad had blindly stepped on the Goofer's foot in his effort to pull the bucket off.

"Wot is that idjit doing...?" The Goofer who held me asked. "Somebody clobber him, awready!"

Two Goofers detatched themselves from the main group, both pulling old metal pipes from their clothes. They walked up to Launchpad, one on either side, and lifted the pipes high, ready to swing. At the last moment, however, he staggered to one side, so that the pipes missed him. Each one instead hit the other Goofer. Both Goofers went cross-eyed, and fell over.

"'Ey, you guys stop playin' around an' git 'im!" The Goofer yelled. Another burly Goofer pushed back his sleeves, and stepped into the fray. He swung back his fist for a punch, but Launchpad suddenly tripped. He spun frantically about, trying to regain his balance, and as he did, one leg caught the Goofer in the stomach, sending the thug flying. Three other Goofers all tried to grab Launchpad as he regained his balance and resumed trying to remove the bucket on his head, but somehow he managed to duck at just the right time so that all they grabbed was thin air. Launchpad then staggered into the first Goofer, accidentally head-butting the astounded goon, and knocking him into his fellows.

The rest of the Goofers all glanced at each other, then rushed at my hapless sidekick. They all jumped on him in a dust-raising brawl. For a moment, I thought Launchpad was getting pummeled to a pulp, but then I saw him stagger out from behind the dust cloud, completely untouched...And still trying to pull the bucket from his head.

"Waitaminnit," the Goofer who was still holding me said. "How'd he...but if _he's_ there, who're they fighting?"

The answer to that became clear as the dust cleared. All the other Goofers had apparently been fighting each other, and now they were all down for the count.

"Whoa," the now one remaining Goofer gasped. "What is he?"

"Oh, just my sidekick," I replied. Realizing that the Goofer was distracted, I quickly took advantage of it.

"Oh, and by the way, _hee-yah_!"

A quick kick to the Goofer's stomach, a karate chop to the head, and it was all over. I dusted my hands off as Launchpad finally got the bucket off his head and looked around at the defeated Goofers.

"Hey, ya did it, D.W. You took all those Gophers down!"

I coughed awkwardly. "I...Um, oh. I sure did. Yup, yup, yup, those guys tangled with the wrong duck."

Well,_ I _did most of the real fighting. All Launchpad did was take a bucket off his head.

Later that night, I found myself in a even worse position. I had to persuade the unpersuadable, move the unmovable...Namely, to get my stubborn daughter to go to bed.

"You should've been in bed hours ago," I grunted as I attempted to pry Gosalyn from her video game controller.

"_No way_! I'm not going to bed until I finish this game," she shot back. "The princess can't just rescue _herself, _y'know. Besides, I'm not even tired!"

"For your information, this game comes with a save feature. _Use it_."

"Sure, I _could_ turn off the T.V., but then I'd have to find something else to do...Like playing soccer!"

I flinched. That had been the main reason that I'd actually let her play the prototype game in the first place. Gos had decided that if she couldn't play soccer outside because it was getting dark, then she'd do it indoors. One broken T.V. antenna later, I'd given her "The Story of Zoe" to spare my sanity for a little while.

"_Oooh _no, it's definitely bedtime," I told her firmly. "Now save the game and turn off the T.V. already."

She glared at me, then went back to her game. She didn't go to the save menu, though, instead her character headed for the nearest dungeon. _That_ did it. I grabbed the remote and turned off the television over Gos's shrill protest.

"_Hey_! I was playing that!"

"You can play it some more tomorrow," I told her. "Now it's bedtime."

"But, I'm not ready for bed yet..."

"Oh, yes you _are_..." I began, but was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"...Hold that thought," I finished, and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, D.W." It was Launchpad. "Can ya give me a ride home?" I cringed. With Launchpad, that never meant anything good.

"What did you do _now?" _I asked irritably.

"Well, I was kinda practicin' the Flingin' Spring in the Thunderquack for the air show tomorrow, and it...Heh...Kinda got a little out of hand."

"_Great_. Any collateral damage?"

"Uh, what's that mean?"

"Did you crash into anything expensive this time?"

"Oh, that. Nope, just the ground. Don't worry, I'm okay...But, th' Thunderquack's seen better days. I think I'll have to use my ol' Joyrider for the air show."

"Never mind the air show...What about the Thunderquack?"

"It'll be okay, I can fix it in less than a week."

"You'd _better," _I growled, then suddenly had to duck as a soccer ball whirred through the air, courtesy of Gosalyn's feet.

"Will you _stop _that?" I yelped at her.

"I'm_ tryin', _D.W.," Launchpad said from the phone. "The Flingin' Spring isn't exactly a walk in the park, but I told my family I'd..."

"Not _you. _I meant little miss Bigfoot over there."

"Who're you calling 'Bigfoot'?!" Gos demanded.

"Well, maybe if you'd stop _breaking_ stuff, we wouldn't have this problem," I retorted.

"I keep tellin' you, I'm _tryin' _not to, but..." Launchpad replied, as he apparently misheard again.

"Not _you, her!" _I cut him off, frustratedly. "Where _are _you, anyways?"

"Right here, Dad," Gos called cheerfully from on top of the couch, picking up her soccer ball.

"Not _you, him!" _I groaned.

"I'm at Westunder," Launchpad's voice came from over the phone. "It was the only place that had enough airspace..."

"Westunder? Don't they close around nine?"

"Er...You could say that, but I didn't think they'd mind if I used their space to practice. It's not like I'm doing anything bad or anything."

"Great," I sighed. "Look, I'll be there in a half an hour..."

The soccer ball whipped across the room again, this time it bounced off the T.V. and into a lamp, making it fall over. I yelped and made a dive for the lamp, barely catching it in time before it could hit the floor.

"This had better not be broken," I told Gos, "Or it's coming out of your allowance."

"Oh, it's pretty broken, all right," Launchpad said from the phone which I'd forgotten about in my haste to save that lamp. "But, why're you talkin' about an allowance?"

I sighed. "Never mind. Just stay where you are, awright?" And I hung up the phone.

"So, we're going to pick up Launchpad?" Gosalyn asked as she picked up the soccer ball.

"Correction: I'm going to pick up Launchpad. You are staying right here and going to bed."

"Sure, Dad," she said in that voice that promised trouble.

"And I mean it," I told her.

"Whatever you say." Yup, she was definitely up to something.

I was just wondering if I should bring her along after all, if nothing else so the house would be intact when I got back. That's when it occured to me that this was probably some ploy on Gos's part to get me to bring her along.

"That's not going to work, you know," I said.

"What's not gonna work?"

"The agreeing with me...Oh, never mind. I'm going, and you're staying, you got it?"

"Right, Dad," she said. I glared at her, then took off before I could change my mind. As I swished off in the chair, I heard her say "_Nuts..._So much for the psychological approach."

One somewhat boring ride later, I pulled the Ratcatcher into Westunder's entrance.

"Okay," I grumbled under my breath, as I looked around the deserted airfield, "Where did that dimwitted excuse for a pilot get to?"

"_Heeey! _D.W.!" I turned to see Launchpad jogging up from the direction of the landing strip. He was trying to yell in a hushed tone, but he wasn't quite succeeding.

"There you are," I sighed. "Where's the Thunderquack? Or rather, what's_ left _of it?"

"It's over behind that shed there," he said pointing to a nearby shed. "But, we got another problem. Someone's gonna try an' kill Loopy! We gotta warn her!"

"_What? _Wait, wait a minute, let's take this from the beginning," I told the overexcited pilot. "What exactly happened?"

"Well, I was practicin' the Flingin' Spring like I told ya earlier. I think I went into the anti-gravity corkscrew too soon. That's why I crashed. Anyways, after I called ya t'ask for a ride, I heard a couple of guys comin' towards me. I couldn't let 'em see th' Thunderquack, so I threw a tarp over it an' hoped they wouldn't see it."

"Oh yes, an _excellent_ choice of camoflague," I groaned sarcastically.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. What happened then?"

"I put a tarp over the Thunderquack an' hid behind th' shed. That's when three or four guys came walkin' up. I couldn't see who they were because it was too dark, but I could hear 'em loud an' clear. One of them said somethin' like 'You got the money?' an' another one said 'Here's half, th' other half comes when y' finish th' job'. Then he said 'Don't forget t' do this before she takes off, we wouldn't want our little lovebird to miss her final flight on th' Flight of fancy,' and that's when I realized they were talkin' about Loopy. We gotta tell her!"

"Oh_-ho! _So there's a case afoot," I exclaimed. "Well, I'm just the crime-fighter to take care of it."

"We have t' tell my family, first," Launchpad said.

"Oh all _right_, if you insist," I sighed.

When we knocked on the door to the Mcquacks' hotel room, it was opened by a somewhat sleepy-looking Ripcord.

"Launchpad? What's goin' on, son?"

"Where's Loopy? I need to talk t' her!"

"She an' Dylan went out t' dinner," Ripcord replied as an equally sleepy looking Birdy shuffled into the doorframe.

"Why d'you need to talk to Loopy this late?" She asked through a yawn.

"Because someone's gonna try an' kill her at th' air show!"

Both parents instantly became wide awake.

"_What?!" _They exclaimed in unison.

"I was pra...Um, I mean I was out with D.W. here..." He clapped me on my shoulder, knocking the breath out of me. "When I heard three or four guys talkin'. One of them was payin' the others money to do somethin' to Loopy. They didn't say what, but the guy said somethin' like 'We wouldn't want our little lovebird to miss her final flight on th' Flight of Fancy.' I have t' tell Loopy right away!"

"Did y'see who those guys were?" Ripcord asked.

"Nah, it was too dark. I wish I_ had_, though."

"You an' me, both," his father agreed. That's when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Loopy and her fiancee, Dylan, approaching.

"What's going on?" Dylan asked.

"Why's everyone up so totally late?" Loopy added.

"We got trouble," Ripcord told them. "Launchpad said he just overheard someone talkin' about killin' ya at th' air show."

"_What?" _Loopy demanded, aghast.

"Why would anyone want to do that?" Dylan wondered.

"I don't know," Launchpad said in an exasperated tone. "I don't know why or how, I don't even know _who_ would want to try anythin' like that. All I know is that they're after Loopy, an' they'll be goin' after her durin' the Flight of Fancy."

"Oh my," Birdy said. "To think that anyone could want to go after our Loopy..."

"Like, calm down, Mom. I'll totally be okay," Loopy reassured her. "I think that if anyone tries _anything_, it'll probably be sabotaging my plane, for sure."

"Of course," Dylan agreed. "All they'd have to do is rearrange the ejector seat a little, and she'd be in big trouble. I think someone ought to watch the plane for the night, just to make sure nobody gets to it. I'll volunteer for the job."

He turned to Loopy and kissed her on the cheek.

"I know you'll miss me, my sweet, but your safety always comes first. I'll see you tomorrow."

And Dylan headed off into the night. We were all silent for a moment after he left. Finally, Birdy broke the increasingly awkward silence.

"So, Launchpad, is your friend who I think he is?"

"Huh? Oh, I forgot! Mom, Dad, Loopy, this is th' hero guy I've been tellin' you about. D.W., this is my Mom, Birdy, m'Dad, Ripcord, an' my sister, Loopy."

As he finished the introductions, the three pilots stared at me with a well-deserved mixture of respect and awe.

"Oh, this is just perfect," Birdy said. "With a hero like him around, we don't need to worry about anyone hurting Loopy. He can track down those hooligans before the air show even begins."

"Well, I kinda need to figure out where to look first," I told her. "I'll start with a few questions for you, Ms. McQuack. Have you noticed anything unusual happening lately? People asking you to do things? Anyone following you?"

"Huh? No..." Loopy replied.

"Can you think of anyone that might want to hurt you for some reason?" I asked, trying again.

"_No!" _She said, heatedly. "I'm a stunt pilot, I don't do anything shady. I can't think of any reason for anyone to want to hurt me."

"_I_ can," Launchpad interjected. "You're a stunt pilot, remember? We have high premiums on our insurance. Now, if something happened to you, who would get the money from the insurance company?"

"Hey, _hey, hey_,_ hey_," I snapped, irritably. "_I'm_ the crime fighter here, _I'm_ the one who's supposed to name any suspects."

"Then, who do you think would want Loopy dead?" Birdy asked.

"Why, it's _obvious_. Her fiancee, Dylan has the most likely motivation. He's my number one suspect."

Never mind that I hadn't even _considered_ him until Launchpad brought up that bit with the insurance. A suspect is a suspect.

"Dylan? You're totally joking, aren't you," Loopy demanded. "He wouldn't hurt a hair on my head! Now, you're saying he wants to _kill_ me?!"

"Now Loopy, calm down," Launchpad told her. "It's not like he's the _only _suspect, just the only one I can think of..."

"Big brother, you're, like, flying a few quarts low. I think you made that story up just to get at Dylan."

"_What? _Loopy, Dylan might not be the one who's tryin' to kill you, but I know what I heard. I think you should be careful, tomorrow."

"And I think you and your hero _friend_ had better find out who's trying to kill me for sure," Loopy retorted. "Because it totally isn't Dylan."

And she stormed off into the hotel room, presumably to bed.

"Oh dear," Birdy said. "Maybe I should talk to her..."

"Nah," Ripcord replied, putting an arm around her. "She's just upset because she really loves Dylan. Not that I'm sayin' anything against _you, _son," he added to Launchpad. "I'm sure ya heard what ya said you heard. But, Dylan doesn't seem much like the type t' want to hurt anyone, let alone Loopy. Now, I'm sure you an' D.W. there'll probably want to track down th' one that we're lookin' for...But, me an' your mother are gonna get some shuteye. It's gonna be a long day t'morrow, and I think we should all keep our eyes open for anything bad at th' air show. G'night, son."

"'Night, Dad," Launchpad replied as his parents went back into the hotel room and we turned away.

"Well, L.P.," I announced. "We most definitely have a mystery on our hands."

"I think we should go keep an eye on Loopy's plane," Launchpad said. "Loopy was right when she said that the most likely way t' sabotage the stunt was with her plane. We need to do a...What's that word you use for keepin' an eye on someone, D.W.?"

"A stakeout," I suggested pointedly.

"No, thanks. This isn't really the time for food."

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

The "Flying McQuacks" kept their planes in a large hangar on the far side of the airfield. It didn't take us too long to find it, as well as Dylan, who was sitting on a crate, keeping watch in front of the hangar's entrance. We took shelter behind a different pile of crates, with an excellent view of the hangar.

"What's he doin'?" Launchpad asked from behind me as I peered out from behind two crates.

"He's doing...He's doing...Absolutely nothing," I whined irritably. "How am I supposed to arrest him for wrongdoing if he's not_ doing _anything?!"

I sighed and sank back down behind the boxes.

"This is so mind-bogglingly dull...I didn't even have time to pick up something to do while I waited. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long, boring, and completely uneventful night."

Launchpad crept up to take my place.

"Hey, I think I hear something," he whispered.

The beeping ring of one of those fancy cellular phones was what I heard. I got to my hands and knees and joined Launchpad at the gap between the crates, just as Dylan answered the phone.

"_Now_ what is it?" He demanded. There was an audible pause as whoever was on the phone responded. "Yes...Mm-hmm...Make it silk. That's right. The finest, most delicate silk you can find...And make sure it's the right size,

too." Another pause, then "Of _course_ I've got the rest of the money. I told you, I'll pay you after the air show, got that? Good." And he hung up the phone, and put it into his pocket.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Sounds like he's orderin' a dress for Loopy," Launchpad replied.

"At _this_ time of night?"

"I dunno...Maybe he was plannin' on surpisin' her with it."

Needless to say, that was the only thing that happened during the stakeout, and my prediction that the night would be utterly boring came true with a vengance. Early the next morning, I was awakened from...um...Resting up my eyes a bit by the sound of an airplane passing by just overhead.

"Huh..._Wha?!" _I exclaimed, jumping to my feet.

"Huh? Oh, you're awake, D.W." Launchpad looked all bleary-eyed, which was precisely how I felt.

"I'm _always_ awake," I told him irritably, but I don't think Launchpad heard me.

"Hey, there's the others," he said as the rest of his family walked by the crates, obviously heading for the hangar. Dylan, noticing them, stood up and stretched.

"Good morning, honey," he said to Loopy. "I must've scared the saboteurs away, I'm pleased to report that nothing happened to our plane last night."

"I'll be the judge of that," Launchpad announced, stalking out from behind the crates. The other pilots turned to look at him as he joined them. I sighed as I stepped out from the crates myself.

"What're you doing here, big bro'?" Loopy asked.

"What's it_ look _like? We were keepin' an eye on your plane."

"Now, isn't that a nice thing to do," Birdy said before Loopy could say anything.

"Aw'right, pilgrims, we'll take it from here," Ripcord announced. "You guys go an' get some rest before th' show starts."

"You got it," Launchpad croaked through a yawn as we both turned and started to go.

"Like, wait up, big bro'," Loopy called, jogging over. She caught up to us, then lowered her voice to an undertone.

"You were totally spying on Dylan, weren't you?"

"Well yeah, but..."

"I can't _believe_ this! I told you, there is no way that my fiancee'd want to hurt me. Now, you leave him alone!"

"But, Loopy," Launchpad protested. "We were just keepin' an eye on your plane, that's all. It's not _my _fault that Dylan happened to be there too."

"Oh, _really_? And I suppose you happened to forget that Dylan was watching the plane, too? And for your information, he was with me last night. He wouldn't have been there when you overheard that conversation about trying to kill me. So, you can forget about him as a suspect for sure."

"Look Loopy, I'm just tryin' to look out for ya. Isn't that what a big brother's _supposed_ to do?"

"I've got Dylan to do that. Now, you leave him alone, or I'll totally never talk to you again!"

And she stormed back off in the direction of the rest of her family.

"Aw, I _really_ put my foot in it this time," Launchpad groaned dejectedly as we headed for the Ratcatcher.

"You sure did," I sighed. "Let's just get back home and get to bed. I think we both need it."

It seemed like barely five seconds had passed between my head hitting the pillow and my alarm clock going off around five hours later. I irritably lay there a few seconds, contemplating the many ways an alarm clock could be taken apart before falling back on my old standard. I grabbed the clock, and hurled it in the direction of the trash can. I had just gotten comfortable again when my "other" alarm clock kicked in the door.

"_Up an' at 'em, Dad!" _Gosalyn bellowed at the top of her lungs.

I opened one eye long enough to glare at her.

"You know, most kids just knock," I croaked. "Besides, the air show doesn't even _start_ until three."

"So? I'm just making sure you're awake in time," she replied. "Besides, Launchpad's parents called, they want us to get the good seats before they're gone. Oh, and they said to pack us a lunch."

I rolled my eyes and levered myself out of the warm, cozy, bed.

Launchpad was already sitting on the couch as I arrived downstairs.

"Hey, D.W.," he said rather enthusiastically for someone who'd just had a night-long stakeout. "Gonna be a big day, eh? We gotta get movin', I wanna check on Loopy's plane. Oh, I already packed lunch. It's on the table.

"Yeah, sure," I grunted as I grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting on the table. I noticed it was unusually heavy.

"What's in this?" I asked.

"I just threw some food in there in case we get hungry."

I took a peek into the basket, suspicious of anything my absent-minded sidekick might have packed. In fact, my suspicions were proved right when what seemed to be the entire contents of the fridge leaped out at me, burying me to my waist.

"Aw, now you've gone an' spilled it," Launchpad cried. I shot him a killing glare.

"Maybe _I_ should pack lunch this time," I told him pointedly.

We arrived at Westunder to find it was now a burgeoning bustle of...Uh...Bustling burgeon. Of course, there were a couple of differences this time. First, I wasn't Darkwing this time, and second, we had Gos with us. Naturally, Launchpad insisted on checking in with his family, first.

"How ya doin', son?" Ripcord asked as we entered the McQuacks' hangar. "Ya feelin' up t' the Flingin' Spring?"

"Hey, I'm _always_ up for the Flingin' Spring," Launchpad replied. "Any news on Loopy?"

"Nope. Nobody tried to touch th' plane. I even took a good look under the hood, checks out fine. Your Ma an' I are also keepin' an eye on Loopy, too, just in case...She's not too thrilled with it, but she's not complainin'."

"That's good. We just gotta make sure nothin' goes wrong. So, is it ready?"

Gos and I exchanged glances, both wondering what "it" was.

"Yup, it's ready. It's in pretty good condition too, considerin' how much it's been through.

"What are you talking about," I asked.

"What else?" Launchpad said. "My ol' Joyrider. I need a plane to do the Flingin' Spring, ya know.

"What's a Joyrider?" Gos wondered.

"Here, I'll show you." Launchpad led us around his parent's planes and pointed to a somewhat battered looking old-fashioned biplane sitting over in the corner.

"I've had it for years," he said proudly. "It was the first thing I got when I'd saved up enough money. I've had it ever since."

"Y'know, it looks kinda familiar," I remarked. "I think I've seen it somewhere before."

"Well, of_ course _ya did. Remember when we first met? This was the plane we were usin'."

I flinched as I remembered that particular adventure. I'd been in pursuit of some thugs who'd taken a whole train car up in the air. Due to an altercation with the giant condor who was owned by the felon who'd masterminded the whole robbery, I'd ended up falling in a hangar that had belonged to Launchpad. I'd talked the enthusiastic pilot into using the nearest plane to go after the train robbers. Naturally, that short-lived chase had ended up in a spectacular crash. Launchpad hopped up on the plane.

"This little baby an' I've been through a lot. Maybe even more than I have with you guys." He moved the cushion on one of the seats.

"H-hey! It still has that dent Mister McDee left that one time. He was pretty sore because th' plane was stalled, an' that Glomgold was gettin' away with the Whoozawhatsis idol. Everythin' turned out all right, though. Turns out Mister McDee's nephews switched the real idol for one of those cheap replicas they were sellin' at the resort. Those were some fun times..."

His voice trailed off as he suddenly remembered we were there.

"Oh, uh...You guys are fun, too. I'm just as happy here as I was back in Duckburg."

"That's a relief," I said gratefully.

"Yup. Got m'plane, got my friends, an' I'm all ready for that Flingin' Spring. Oh, speakin' of the air show, d'you have your costume with ya, D.W? I was gonna ask earlier, but I forgot."

"I _always_ have it with me."

"Good. I think we're gonna need you around in case somethin' happens. You guys should go an' find some good seats in th' audience, I'll tell ya when it's time for Loopy's stunt."

Fortunately, there were still some good seats in the front row of the grandstand. Gosalyn and I took two of them at the end of one row. About a half-hour later, the show began. I'll have to admit, it was pretty spectacular. even to someone like me, who was somewhat used to aerial antics. It was with a certain amount of reluctance that I found myself de-craning my neck at a tap on my shoulder.

"Hey, D.W.," Launchpad said. "We're gettin' pretty close t'Loopy's stunt."

"Aw, all right," I grumbled, as I rubbed my somewhat stiff neck and reluctantly rose.

"Have fun, Dad," Gos said cheerfully.

"Oh for..." I groaned. There was no way that I was going to leave her alone at a big air show like this. There were far too many ways she could get into trouble.

"Is there any chance of finding someone to watch her in this?" I asked Launchpad.

"Actually, I already told my folks y'weren't feelin' too well, an' might have t'leave, so they offered t'watch Gos, just in case. They already did their stunt, anyways."

Once again, we headed down to the McQuacks' hangar. This time, two of the planes that had been in there were out on the lawn in front. One plane I recognized as the one that Launchpad had shown us. Loopy was busy cleaning the other one, I guessed it was her plane.

"Hey, Loopy!" Launchpad called as we approached. "Ya ready for the Flight of Fancy?"

"Well _duh_, we totally are," she replied.

"You got that right," Dylan said, as he stepped out of the hangar. "And it's going to be spectacular. Especially since none of us have seen any sign of trouble."

Launchpad cleared his throat awkwardly as Dylan passed us.

"Er, look, Loopy," he said. "I-I didn't mean t' make you angry this mornin'. I was just tryin' t' help, but y'know what I'm like. It happens all the time, when I try t' help, somethin' always goes wrong. I'm sorry about what I said about Dylan, too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, an' I know I've been wrong before..."

Loopy put a hand on his beak, cutting him off. "Okay, big brother, apology totally accepted. Now I gotta get ready to the max for our stunt."

"Sure thing," Launchpad replied. "Take care, Loopy."

She waved an acknowlegement, then turned and went back to polishing her plane. Meanwhile, Launchpad led us back into the hangar. Inside, the two McQuack parents were busy doing repairs on one of the two remaining planes. Birdy looked up at our approach.

"Well, hello son," she said cheerfully. She then noticed that Gosalyn was with us. "Your father left, I take it? Well, that's a shame, but at least you can stay here and see the end of the show."

"Yeah, it's gonna be some stunt, huh?" Ripcord remarked. He tightened a screw on the plane he was working on. "Okay, that's done. Now, I think it's just about time to get started."

Dylan and Loopy were making the final preparations for their stunt when we stepped out again.

"Well, looks like it's time to go," Dylan said as he noticed us approaching.

"You take care of yourselves," Birdy told them. "And don't worry about the stunt, between Launchpad's friend and the rest of us, we'll get make sure that nothing goes wrong."

"Yeah! Knock 'em dead," Ripcord agreed, almost knocking Dylan over with a clap to the shoulders.

"Um, Loopy..." Launchpad began, but before he could get any farther, a fellow who evidently worked for the air show jogged over.

"You're all clear for takeoff," he called, then he moved on to whatever he was doing next.

"We'd better get moving, before the traffic starts up again," Dylan said, jumping into the plane.

"G-Good luck," Launchpad said, but he was drowned out by the sound of the plane's engine starting. Then, the plane roared into the air and was quickly lost amid the swarm of planes flying around.

"They grow up so quickly..." Birdy said softly, then she turned back to the hangar. "Well, we've got some time to kill before the stunt begins."

"The stunt's not starting yet?" Gosalyn asked, curiously.

"Nah, they have to get to position first," Ripcord told her. "The air traffic is always pretty dense during a air show, so it's usually a smart idea t' get in th'air early."

"So we have to wait?! _Aw_, that's major-league boring!"

"It's not _that_ bad," Launchpad said. "Hey Gos, y'wanna see something cool?"

He pulled a small remote-controlled plane off a nearby table.

"This is Loopy's, but I don't think she'll mind you playin' with it."

Five minutes later, the airplane was zooming around the hangar, making crashes that made some of Launchpad's landings look good.

"Yer doin' great, kid!" Ripcord called over the sounds of the plane hitting one of the roof struts. "Try t'keep your nose low."

I sighed with irritation then yelped and deftly ducked, as the plane made another U-turn and headed straight for me. The plane missed me, and burst through one of the small windows on the sides of the hangar.

"Way to go, Amelia Earhurl," I groaned with a certain amount of exasperation. "That wasn't even your plane, y'know."

"Aw, don't be so hard on her, D.W.," Launchpad said cheerfully. "She's doin' better than I was when I was her age. I'll go get the plane back for ya. Y'wanna come with me, D.W.?"

"Sure," I sighed. Anything to get away from the crash crew for a while.

It actually took us a minute or two to find the model plane. I finally spotted it lying under a large safety net.

"There it is," I said, walking over to pick the plane up. "Geez, Gos _really _sent this thing flying, didn't she?"

Launchpad jogged over to join me. "Don't worry about it, m'Dad can fix it if it's busted."

I looked up as a real-life plane whirred by overhead, and then abruptly saw something that made me completely lose interest in the model.

"Wait a minute, that safety net's got a hole in it...It almost looks like the model made it."

"The _model? _Aw, D.W., don't worry, that net's made of genuine synthetic fiber, it's strong enough t' take a whole plane crashin' into it."

I squinted my eyes to get a better look at the net. That didn't work out too well, so I just pulled out the old magnifying glass to get a really good look.

"That net isn't fiber...It's made of_ silk..._Really, really fine silk...It wasn't strong enough to hold that model..."

"But, that's the safety net for Loopy's stunt..." Launchpad began, as an expression of comprehension and sudden horror dawned on his face. "If Dylan misses, and she falls on it..." He suddenly broke off with a horrified gasp and quickly turned and raced off in the direction of his parents' hangar. I followed him, catching up with him as he yelled the news to his startled parents.

"Ma! Dad! We gotta stop th' stunt! The safety net's been replaced with some stuff that won't hold any weight! If Dylan doesn't catch Loopy, she'll fall right through the net an'...We have to stop 'em!"

"Oh, this is terrible!" Birdy exclaimed.

"Calm down, honey," Ripcord told her. "We'll just call 'em up on the radio."

"C'mon, D.W.," Launchpad said grabbing my arm. "I have a feelin' that the radio isn't gonna work, and my plane's all ready for takeoff."

"Right," I agreed.

It only took us a few seconds to get out of the hangar and into Launchpad's plane. Getting the plane started, however, took a bit longer.

"Come on, _come on_," Launchpad muttered as he attempted to coax the plane's engine to life.

"Are you _sure _this plane's ready for takeoff?" I asked irritably.

"Well of _course! _My Dad was fixin' it earlier, and if anyone knows how to fix a plane, it's him! Why, he could fix the Sphinx!"

"Oh _yeah? _When's the last time you saw a flying sphinx?" I retorted.

"What the heck is wrong with this thing?" Launchpad wondered. "Oh, I know!" He hopped out of the plane and pounded the hood of the engine with his fist. The engine purred to life.

"I forgot, th' old Joyrider's a little rusty," Launchpad told me as he returned to his seat. "It always gets a bit stiff after a checkup."

_"Swell_," I said as the plane lurched and started moving. "I'm flying in an antique airplane, with _arthritis!"_

I suddenly found myself thrown back into my seat by the plane's abrupt upward movement.

"Hang on, D.W.," Launchpad called belatedly. The plane bumped along the runway once or twice, then the ground dropped beneath us, and we were airborne.

"Awright, now we just gotta find Loopy's plane before they start the stunt," Launchpad said over the roar of the airplane's engines.

"Are you _kidding?!" _I shouted back, pulling out a pair of binoculars to look at all the planes buzzing around us. "That's like trying to find a needle in a flying haystack!"

"Aw, it's not that hard, ya just gotta know where t'look!"

There was a sudden crackling sound behind me as the plane's radio burst into life.

"Launchpad, come in!" Birdy's voice sounded very worried now.

"Mom? Did you get Loopy on the radio?" Launchpad asked.

"No, no luck there. We think someone must've turned it off. Your father's trying to get to the people running the air show and tell them to cancel the stunt, or at least to find a new net but that might take too long. You've got to get to Loopy's plane before they can start!"

"Roger that, Ma," Launchpad replied. I nodded, and went back to looking through the crowd of planes.

"I see 'em, D.W!" All of a sudden, the plane went into a steep left turn, which nearly made me lose my binoculars.

"Did you have to take that turn so fast?" I yelled back at Launchpad, as I took what could best be referred to as a "death grip" on my seatbelt.

"Sorry, D.W., this isn't a good time for arguin'. You'd better hang on, this is gonna be a bit tricky."

"Tricky?" I repeated, as I turned to face the front again. This is when I realized that we were heading for a absolute aerial aglommeration of airplanes.

_"Gyaaaaah!" _I yelled. Fortunately, Launchpad wasn't quite so easily rattled. _Un_fortunately, he wasn't inclined to take the dangerous path slowly, either. We hurtled through the lines of planes at what felt like breakneck speed. All I could do was close my eyes and hope that I wouldn't feel the impact of the crash. I could hear the buzz of airplane engines and the occasional startled yelp or loud cry of protest from the people piloting those planes. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sounds stopped, and we were clear.

I opened my eyes to see that we were now heading for one small airplane out in the open. It took me a moment to realize that it was, in fact, Loopy's plane. I could see Loopy herself climbing out of the seat and waving to the crowd below from the plane's wing as the voice on the loudspeaker announced the debut of the spectacular Dibronski/McQuack team, and their death-defying Flight of Fancy.

"Loopy! Loopy, you've gotta stop the stunt!" Launchpad yelled. "The safety net's out!"

Loopy looked up and saw us. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"What?" She called.

"The net's out! _Don't do it, Loopy!"_

"That's absurd," Dylan said. "I can see it from here, it's perfectly all right...And you're getting in the way. Why don't you take your little friend and go cry wolf somewhere else?"

_"Please_, Loopy, ya gotta listen to me just this once! I swear, I'll never bother you again..."

Loopy's eyes narrowed, and she turned back to get into the plane.

"What're you _doing?!" _Dylan demanded. "Don't tell me you're actually _listening_ to him. Why, he..."

_"No_, Dylan," Loopy told him. "He's right this time. When you said the radio wasn't working, that totally got me suspicious. I mean, my Dad went through the plane piece by piece before we went up. He'd _never_ let me go up with a

broken radio. And, you might've been with me at the restaurant last night, but you took a half hour to use the bathroom. There's something fishy going on here, Dylan, and I want some answers."

"You want to fish up some answers?" Dylan responded. "Well, how's about you try going off the deep end!" And he pushed her, catching her off balance before she could get back into her seat. Loopy screamed as she fell from the plane.

"_Loopy!" _Launchpad cried, then I abruptly had to hold on for dear life again, as he pulled the plane into a steep dive after her. "D.W., get ready to grab her!"

We quickly pulled even with the falling Loopy.

"Grab on!" I told her, but as she reached out to take my hand, there was a sudden shuddering jolt, and the plane we were in was swept upwards. Looking down, I could see that the plane was being pushed up by another plane going up under it. Namely the plane that was being piloted by Dylan.

_"No!" _Launchpad yelled as Loopy once again fell out of my reach..

"I haven't come this far to lose my money to an idiot like _you_," Dylan snarled up at us. I realized that there was no way that Launchpad would be able to catch up to Loopy in time...But, who said that Launchpad had to take all the glory? I quickly came up with a plan, unbuckled my seat belt, and stood up.

"It's not over yet," I said, and jumped off the plane. Falling through the air, I once again caught up to Loopy. She stared at me in shock.

"What're you..."

"No time to explain. _Grab on!"_

Loopy hesitated for a moment, then flung her arms around me. I quickly pulled my cape up, making an improvised parachute of sorts. It slowed our fall to a gentle descent, letting us land safely on the suspicious safety net,which promptly broke under our weight, sending us plunging the final three feet to the ground.

I sat up and looked around. Loopy was already on her feet and taking a close look at the remains of the so-called safety net.

"That was so totally close," she said softly. "Launchpad was right..."

"_Loopy!" _I turned to see both the McQuack parents and Gosalyn running over.

"Are you okay?" Birdy asked as they got a bit closer.

"Mom!" Loopy cried, rushing over to her parents. "I'm fine. Launchpad and Darkwing saved me, but Dylan...He tried to kill me!"

"Oh, thank goodness you're okay," her mother exclaimed.

"An' don't ya worry about that lyin' backstabber," Ripcord added. "By the time we get through with him, he'll be wishin' he'd never _met_ us. Hey, where _is _that backstabber, anyways?"

The "Backstabber" in question, having apparently realized that the game was up, was apparently trying to make a fly for it. He pulled his plane out from under Launchpad's and headed full throttle for the nearest way out of there. It took Launchpad a moment or two to figure out what was happening, but as he turned his plane to give chase, it wavered erratically and the engine started smoking.

"Aw, that doggone..." Ripcord began cursing. "That guy must've knocked th' exhaust pipe outta line. I _knew_ it was a little rickety, but I never expected it to get knocked out like that.."

Launchpad was now struggling to keep his plane upright. It kept rolling to one side. Then, his plane suddenly veered to the left and went out of control.

_"Launchpad!"_ We all cried. The plane headed right for one of the flagpoles that topped the grandstand, but the plane hit it at an odd angle, so that it didn't break the flagpole. As a matter of fact, the flagpole bent back, resembling nothing as much as a giant catapult.

That's when I heard the sound of a plane starting behind me.

"Loopy, what're you doing?!" Birdy demanded. I turned to see that Loopy had pulled one of her parents' planes out of the hangar.

"Like, what's it_ look _like?" Loopy retorted. "That jerk is gonna get away for sure, if I don't do something...!"

But, before Loopy could take off, I saw a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye. It took me a moment to recognize it as Launchpad's plane, and piece together what had happened. Launchpad had either cut the power to his plane, or the engine had failed...

And without the plane pushing it, the flagpole had sprang back to its' normal position, sending the plane flying.

"Look!" Gos yelled, as the plane was hurled across the length of the airfield. It quickly caught up to the fleeing Dylan's plane and crashed into it, sending both planes spiraling into what might best be called a typical Launchpad landing.

We all started running towards the crashed planes. When we were about halfway there, I heard the audience break into cheers. Someone had apparently climbed out of the wreckage intact...And, if I knew anything about Launchpad, it was that he had an uncanny knack for getting out of even the worst crashes with only minor injuries.

And then, I could see the wrecked planes, and more importantly, Launchpad standing on what was left of the wing of his small plane, waving at the audience.

"Don't worry, I'm okay," he called. Then, he noticed us.

"_Guys! _Loopy, are you okay?"

"I'm totally okay, big bro'," Loopy answered. "Where's Dylan?"

"Huh? Oh, he's..." Launchpad pointed over to the other side of the plane, but there was nobody there.

"Er, he was right there a second ago," he finished.

"Aw, don't tell me he got away," Ripcord groaned.

"No, he didn't," Birdy said, pointing to the remains of a tent which had evidently been crushed by the landing planes. Dylan was in front of the entrance, looking like he'd definitely rather be somewhere else, _anywhere_ else, as long as it didn't involve being surrounded by four tough-looking thugs, which of course was his present state. If fact, he probably would have made a run for it, if the biggest thug hadn't had his arm in a rather firm, and probably somewhat painful, grip. I quickly recognized the four.

"That's the Sufferage gang," I exclaimed. "They're goons for hire...If the price is right. What're_ they _doing here?"

The answer became apparent as we approached them.

"What's th' big deal, landin' on our hiding place?" One of the Suffrages was asking Dylan.

"That's none of your business," Dylan snapped back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some pressing business elsewhere..."

"I don't_ think _so," the goon that held him said. "You still owe us half the money for replacin' that net, and we aren't gonna let you leave without it."

All of a sudden, there was the loud sounds of sirens appraching, fast.

"The cops!" another Sufferage exclaimed. "We gotta get outta here!"

But, it was too late for that. The tent was quickly surrounded by police cars, and all four Sufferages, plus Dylan, suddenly faced a lot of police guns. They pretty much had no choice but to surrender. We all watched them being led off in handcuffs.

"Just a minute, pilgrim," Ripcord told the policeman who was leading Dylan out. "I just want a word with this guy before he gets locked up."

"Sure," the policeman said, pulling Dylan over in front of us.

"Thanks," Ripcord said politely. Then he took a deep breath before letting loose on the unfortunate Dylan.

"You've got a lotta nerve tryin' to pull that off! Loopy coulda been_ killed..."_

"Daddy!" Loopy protested. "Like, why don't you let_ me _handle this? He was my fiancee, after all."

Loopy stepped between her father and ex-fiancee, then to my surprise she dropped the "valley girl" accent altogether, and took up her father's tirade where he'd left off in the same Duckburg accent the rest of her family used.

"I coulda been_ killed! _An', all this time I thought you loved me! Now, I know you're nothin' but a slimy, swindlin' con man! Well, ya can consider the weddin' off!"

"_Good!" _Dylan retorted foolishly. "Who would want to be in an idiotic family like_ yours?"_

_That_ did it. Loopy grabbed him by his jacket.

"Don't you _ever _insult my family like that," she snarled furiously. Then, she swung her arm into a very hefty haymaker that left Dylan reeling back over to where the cop was.

"You about done, Miss?" He asked. "Let's go."

He escorted the dazed Dylan to the nearest police car, and threw him in.

_"Whoa," _Launchpad said as the car drove off. "Where'd you learn to punch like_ that?"_

"Where else?" Loopy replied. "From Mom."

We all looked over at Birdy, who shrugged cheerfully.

"Well, it's not like I had to use it very often," she remarked. "But, a girl's gotta learn how to take care of herself, just in case."

The next day soon came, and it was soon time for the "Flying McQuacks" to, as Ripcord put it, "Take to the wild blue yonder." So it was naturally that the three of us had to say our farewells.

"Too bad y'guys can't stay," Launchpad said as he helped his family pack their things into their planes.

"Well, we'd totally _love_ to stay," Loopy told him. "But, we've got a big stunt coming up in, like, that place out by the cape."

"We might fly over for Christmas, though," Birdy said. This had the effect of making me flinch. Don't get me wrong, I_ liked _the McQuacks...But, I'd rather not have them in my place, where they had a chance of discovering my more heroic alter ego...

"Too bad your friend Darkwing couldn't make it here t'say goodbye," Ripcord remarked. "I never got a chance t'thank him for savin' Loopy yesterday."

I decided that that was an excellent time for Darkwing Duck to make an appearance, so I quickly thought of an excuse to get out of there.

"Oh, I think I left the oven on at home," I said. "I'd better go turn it off..."

"But, I just turned the oven off before we left," Launchpad said.

"Oh, er, you did?" So much for that excuse...I came up with another one.

"Um, that reminds me, I forgot to feed the fish. I have to go and feed it."

"Huh? What fish?" Launchpad asked cluelessly.

"Um, the...I..." Trust my sidekick to foil my excuses. Fortunately, Gos wasn't quite as slow on the uptake.

"The fish I won from the school fair the other day," she interjected smoothly. "I didn't get a chance to tell you because of the whole thing with your family."

"Yes,_ that _fish," I said quickly, now very grateful that she was there. "I have to feed old Flounder. I'll be back!"

And I made a dash for the nearest broom closet. Not that there were many of those at an airfield, I had to make do with a shed. Anyways, Five minutes later, I sneaked back over to where the others were making their goodbyes.

"Well, D.W. comes an' goes," Launchpad was saying. "I'll probably see him later...But, I have a feelin' that he'll be here..."

"And, here I am," I announced, striding into plain sight. "I couldn't let you guys leave without saying goodbye, could I?"

The three pilots reacted with gasps of surprise and delight.

"Well, there ya are, son," Ripcord excplaimed. "I was just sayin' we never got a chance t' thank ya for savin' Loopy. We owe ya one."

"Oh, I was just doing my job," I said with a certain amount of modesty. I didn't get any further however, because Loopy suddenly wrapped her arms around me.

"Thanks for saving my life," she said. "You were totally awesome back there for sure. Hey, I was wondering, would you be willing to do the Flight of Fancy with me someday? Because I think you're really cute."

_"What?!"_ I sputtered.

"I promise I'll totally work on the Shake-and-bake," Loopy continued, oblivious to my sudden discomfort. "It'll be fun."

"S-Sorry, Miss McQuack," I stammered trying to do this diplomatically. "Er, I already_ have _a girlfriend."

She pouted a little, but I wasn't changing my mind. Loopy McQuack might not be too happy about the situation, but at least _she_ couldn't turn me into a rutabega, like Morgana had that one time...

"Aw, don't take it so hard, Loopy," Launchpad said, cheerfully. "I'm sure there's a nice, single, guy waitin' for ya somewhere out there. Ya just gotta keep lookin', that's all."

"He's absolutely right, you know," Birdy told her daughter. "It took me a while to find your father, but it was worth every minute of it."

"Yeah," Ripcord agreed. "'Sides, I never knew ya t'give up without a fight."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Loopy said, picking up on her family's enthusiasm. "There's a Mister Right just waiting for me, for sure! Let's go!"

It didn't take us too long to say our goodbyes, and the "Flying McQuacks" once again climbed into their airplanes and took off in the direction of the setting sun. Er, okay, the sun wasn't really setting, it was around Noon. I just thought the image sounded cool, okay?!

The three of us watched the planes until they were once again miniscule specks, and finally gone.

"Y'know something, D.W.," Launchpad said, breaking the silence. "I think it might have worked out. You an' Loopy, I mean."

_"Launchpad," _I groaned exasperatedly. "Need I remind you that I already _have_ a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, but Loopy's a good girl. She's nice an' won't zap ya when she gets angry. Besides..."

"Oh for crying out loud," I snapped, pulling my hat down over my ears. _"Enough already!"_


End file.
